Star Trek: The Calderan Rift
by Shaunmc
Summary: On a routine charting mission testing some new Astromitrics equipment, Captain Picard granted the crew leave on nearby starbase Alpha Sigma. So, with a skeleton crew, the Enterprise heads into the nearby Toisich nebula. But their routine mission is interrupted as a mistake by the crew leaves the fate of an entire world hanging in the balance.
1. Captains Log

**Captains Log **

* * *

Captains log, Stardate 43920.6.

The Enterprise has just completed an 8 day retrofit of its long range sensor array at starbase Alpha Sigma. Starfleet command has selected the Enterprise to receive an experimental upgrade of its long range sensor array which is expected to increase sensor resolution by approximately 6% and range by up to 13.72%. We are to test the upgrades in the nearby, yet largely still uncharted, Toisich nebula. What follows should be a fairly straight forward charting mission. I expect little trouble.

As such, since we are well within the protection of Federation space and so close Alpha Sigma, I thought the crew would be well served with a little shore leave. The senior staff will remain aboard, as will the Astrometrics lab and much of engineering to monitor our new equipment. Much of the rest of the crew have chosen to go ashore at Alpha Sigma or retire to their quarters. We will be operating with a skeleton crew for the next 16 days as we chart this unusually large nebula with our new equipment.

On a side note, the crew of the Enterprise has performed admirably of late and I will be recommending several of them for commendation and promotion in my next scheduled report to Starfleet. They have performed with cunning and valor under extraordinary circumstances during our last 3 assignments and I regret not being able to grant leave to all. But, all the same, our current assignment should allow for a more relaxed pace that I'm certain many of them will appreciate.

I, for one, am looking forward to catching up on my Charlemagne.

Picard, out.


	2. Chapter 1: Thin Ice

**Chapter 1: Thin Ice**

* * *

Still at low warp, the Enterprise crept upon the waiting nebula. The main screen cast a soft, warm glow on the bridge crew as it displayed the nebula before them. Starlight danced upon its tawny surface. From deep inside stellar nurseries pierced the lurid veil of cloud and dust swirling about them and lit the nebula from within as a misty, amber sunset.

The mood on the bridge had relaxed in the day and a half travel to the nebula from Alpha Sigma. Their pace had slowed and relaxed as compared to their more recent, and hectic, assignments and they reveled in it. Perhaps a little too much. One young ensign overslept and was more than 5 minutes late for his shift at the helm. 6.42 minutes actually, according to Data. To the ensigns shock, the captain bore his many and bowed apologies with barely a glance of disapproval before ordering him to his station.

Several of the bridge crew unabashedly broke from their work and stole glances at the spectacle on their view screen. All but Data and Worf, that is. Data, having no appreciation for the beauty of the phenomenon as it grew in their sight and Worf who simply didn't care. Even the captain broke from the console at his right to gaze upon it more than once. And, though his stoic demeanor never broke, his heart softened and rejoiced at the sight. The poet within him danced in the presence of natures splendor, though you would never know it to look at him.

"Mr. Data, what is our distance to the target," he said stoically.

"One hundred thousand kilometers, sir," Data responded.

"Slow to impulse."

"Aye, sir."

Data tapped a few icons on his LCARS display and they chirped happily at his command, slowing the ship to impulse. Picard returned to his console and hit a control to rouse his department heads.

"Department heads report in," he said.

"Security reports all clear," Worf said from behind his console. "We're good to go captain."

"Medical on standby," Doctor Crushers voice echoed over the comm.

"Engineering reports ready," Geordi replied over the comm. "Power has been redistributed as per Starfleet specifications and we're finishing the last of our adjustments now."

"Astrometrics here, Captain," the department head said over the comm. "All systems are green. As soon as Mr. Laforge finishes in engineering we can proceed."

"Mr. Data, what can you tell me about the Toisich nebula," the captain asked.

"The Toisich nebula is a J-class emission nebula, sir," Data responded. "Apart from its size, it is fairly unremarkable except for an unusually high deuterium content."

"Do you have a course?"

"Aye, sir. This nebula seems to be composed of several smaller clusters loosely held together by gravometric forces. Sensor telemetry is still coming online, but I believe I can plot an efficient course between the clusters. This will allow us to avoid most gaseous and particulate debris while plotting an efficient pattern to chart the area."

"Take us in, Mr. Data. One quarter impulse. Nice and easy, we're in no hurry."

"Sir!"

Obediently Data banked the Enterprise and it careened softly into a crevice between two masses of nebula which rose as sunlit walls on either side of the ship. Eddies of dust and gas swirled and danced before them. The currents were cut short and cast aside, sent on their way by the ships main deflector. They weren't ten minutes into the nebula before a chiming on his console caught Data's attention.

"The new sensors are online," he said. "I am receiving detailed telemetry now."

"Report," Commander Riker ordered.

"So far the nebula varies little from others of its type, apart from its size. Deuterium levels are lower than estimates, but only just. I have also located a proto planetoid in one of the stellar nurseries which shows signs of rich dilithium deposits."

"Excellent, make a note of it," Picard said.

"Aye, sir," Data said, though he was soon distracted by an anomalous reading on his console. "Fascinating…"

"Mr. Data," Riker asked, leaning in. "Do you have something?"

"Yes, sir. It would appear that our increased sensor resolution has detected an as yet unknown form of radiation."

"Source?"

"Unknown, sir. It is not being produced by any of the stellar nurseries or any of the proto planets in the vicinity. It appears to be some form of localized background radiation."

"Bradbury, can you confirm," Riker asked the ensign at the console beside Data.

"Confirmed," the ensign replied. "It permeates this region of space but does not seem to emanate from any one part of it."

"Does it pose a threat, Mr. Data?"

"I do not believe so, sir," he replied after a moment to review the telemetry data his sensors had fed him. "The radiation is mostly benign but I have recorded engine output drop by as much as 0.03% since entering the nebula."

Riker tapped his communicator.

"Engineering, Mr. Data has reported a 0.03% drop in engine output. Can you confirm?"

"Yes, sir," Geordi replied after a moment. "But it's well within tolerance. We'll keep an eye on it."

"Well, it looks like Starfleets investments are paying dividends already," Riker said, turning to Picard.

"Indeed, Number One," the captain replied with a smile. "With any luck by the time our leisurely jaunt through the park is over we may well have re-written the laws of physics as we know it."

The captains overconfident jest was somewhat out of turn, it would seem, for the next few hours passed relatively uneventfully. Engineering kept a wary eye on their new equipment, though they hardly needed to for it functioned perfectly. So much so that Data was able to discover nearly a quarter dozen more dilithium rich asteroids and proto planets in their vicinity. With plenty of time to spare between scans, he set to work formulating a plan to pinpoint the source of the strange background radiation he had observed earlier. After he had completed his fifth scan of the shift, he turned to the captain to propose his plan.

"Captain, with your permission, I believe I may have found a way to pinpoint the source of the background radiation I detected earlier."

Picard looked up from the console at his right. He had slumped in his chair somewhat, a posture that was all too uncommon for him though he had been holding it for some half an hour. He also rested his chin in his open palm. All in all he looked quite bored. A bad omen this early in such a long mission. But he looked up from his console with renewed vigor now, the light of discovery shining in his eyes.

"How so, Mr. Data?"

"I have noticed over the last few hours that several of the proto stars in the stellar nurseries in this nebula cluster release intermittent, faint tetryon bursts. When they do the background radiation clears for between 0.0013 and 0.067 milliseconds. I believe that a sustained tetryon burst through the main deflector array may disperse the radiation for several seconds for several hundred thousand kilometers around the ship."

"To what end?"

"If engineering can increase power to the deflector and narrow the bandwidth of the sensor array we may be able to add another one percent to the sensor resolution on top of the Starfleet specifications. Once we are able to clear the background radiation, a high resolution sensor sweep should be able to isolate any remaining radiation in the area. Any remaining spikes in the radiation should be the source."

Picard straightened in his chair and adjusted his uniform.

"Make it so," he ordered, a new pep in his voice.

Immediately Data coordinated with Geordi requisitioning the personnel and equipment they would need for the task. It was a simple enough undertaking, though it still took the lollygagging crew nearly half an hour to complete. But complete it they did and soon Geordi reported his progress to Data.

"Geordi to Data, come in Data," he said over the intercom.

"Data here. Come in, Geordi."

"My adjustments are complete. I'm ready when you are. I'll monitor your progress from here."

Data said nothing at first, shooting a glance to the captain for final authority. The captain said nothing in return, but only nodded silently.

"Acknowledged, Geordi" Data said as he began calling up the appropriate sequences on his console. "I am beginning my scan."

Data began, as he had said, with a tetryon burst from the main deflector and the radiation dissipated as he had anticipated. He then initiated the sensor scan manually with a series of lightning fast movements. Most officers would have pre-programmed the maneuvers in a series of macros beforehand. But Data's hands danced playfully on the consoles reflective surface. If one didn't know any better, if one thought he was capable of it, then one might think he was enjoying himself.

"Negative result, Captain," he said after a moment to review the results of the scan. "I will try again."

Data tried two more times, in fact, with the same result each time. He turned to the captain, certain he would be disappointed. But he bore an unexpected smile and an unfamiliar childish gleam in his eye.

"My apologies, sir," Data began. "I seem to have failed. I will revise my approach and propose a new plan at a later date."

"No need for apologies, Mr. Data," the captain said. "Scientific progress seldom comes so easily. In fact, it might be said that without these little setbacks the entire scientific endeavor would be utterly unfulfilling."

"I do not understand, Captain. Is not the ultimate goal of science the acquisition of knowledge? If so, then I have failed in that regard."

"It's not just the acquisition of knowledge, Mr. Data," the captain said wistfully. "It is the process of discovery which makes the journey worthwhile. And you didn't fail. You simply found another method that doesn't work. I am reminded of the words of Vulcan philosopher S'Claulan of Shi'al who said…"

Before the captain could finish the ship listed violently as it ground to a furious halt. The captain picked himself up and hastily climbed back into his chair, being tossed to the ground in the tumult. Even Data was caught off guard, though his heightened reflexes saved him being painfully tossed over his console.

"Report," the captain commanded as warning alarms chimed around him.

"I am detecting microfractures in the ships superstructure," Mr. Worf said as he relayed the readings from his console. "Hull plating is intact and hull integrity is at 97%. Sheilds are at 100%."

"Yellow alert," Riker commanded, though Worf was well ahead of him. He had already called up the proper menu and set the ship to yellow alert with the touch of a button.

"We've come to a dead stop, sir," Data said very matter of factly. "Engine output is zero."

"Engineering, report," the captain called over the comm.

"The warp core is stable," Geordi answered. The muffle din of men and women rushing and shouting over each other could be heard in the background. "The warp field has collapsed and inertial dampeners are offline. One more hit like that and we'll be red stains on the wall, Captain."

"What's the cause?"

"Unknown. I'll get back to you when I know more. Laforge, out."

"Data, did something hit us," Riker asked from the edge of his seat.

"Negative, commander," data replied. "We're no less than 20 kilometers from the nearest object. Deflector strength is at maximum."

"Worf, any contacts?"

"Negative, sir. Sensors are clear."

As they were talking the captain worked furiously on his console, putting himself on ship wide broadcast.

"This is the captain," he said over the comm. "All hands to stations. I want damage and casualty reports from all department heads. Engineering, security and medical heads are to gather for a meeting in my ready room in ten minutes. Picard, out."

The captain waited impatiently at his desk for the last of his department heads to arrive. In attendance were Riker, Worf, Geordi and also Data, who had requested to be present shortly before the meeting. Dr. Crusher was absent, being swamped with minor injuries in sick bay, though she joined by comm. The only left to arrive was Deana who the captain asked to attend at the last minute. She walked in at about the eleven minute mark.

"Mr. Laforge, report," the captain said after all were in attendance.

"Our warp field has collapsed, Captain," Laforge replied. "All systems check out but we can't sustain a successful matter/antimatter reaction in the core. Impulse engines and thrusters are also non responsive. Power reserves have also been affected. Ship batteries have been reduced to 88%, but they are holding. And inertial dampeners are still offline."

"What about our new equipment? Has it been damaged?"

"Not at first glance, Captain. But I have engineering running diagnostics."

"Do you have any idea what caused this?"

Geordi shrugged and shook his head.

"Not a clue, Captain. For the most part systems are green across the board. I've assigned a team to check the dilithium we received from Alpha Sigma for impurities that might destabilize the reaction chamber, but apart from that…"

"Excuse me, sir," Data interrupted. "But I believe I may have an explanation."

"Go ahead, Mr. Data," the captain said, giving him the floor.

"Thank you, sir. After the incident I remembered the 0.03% power drop we suffered after entering the radiation field of the nebula. So I turned to the radiation and studied it more closely."

"I thought you said the radiation is benign, Data," Riker said.

"Yes, sir," Data agreed. "And, indeed, it is. At least in the short term. After further investigation," he said, returning his gaze to the captain. "I have developed a hypothesis. I believe that this radiation has a mildly disruptive effect on the fabric of subspace, breaking it down at the quantum level. This effect is slow and subtle and surely missed by the casual observer. It is as though one were to take a solution of water and vinegar and drip it over a slab of granite. You would not see results immediately. You may not even see results in your lifetime. But eventually, over centuries, the solution will eat a hole through the slab. I believe the same has happened here. This radiation has eaten at the subspace fabric of this region, perhaps for centuries, until we came. Then, as the enterprise moved past one particularly weak spot, subspace collapsed around us."

"Like a pothole," Riker added.

"A pothole? Accessing," he said as his eyes darted to and fro. "Ah, yes, Commander. A deep natural underground cavity formed by the erosion of rock, especially by the action of water. An appropriate analogy. But, owing to its size, I would liken this to more of a quantum sinkhole than a quantum pothole."

"What caused the collapse, Data," the captain inquired.

"I believe I did," Data said apologetically. "When I initiated my scan I began I began with a massive tetryon pulse from our main deflector. I believe this caused a cascade reaction which destabilized subspace in the immediate vicinity. And when the Enterprise moved through a patch of weakened subspace it became lodged."

"Like falling through thin ice," Commander Riker added.

"Precisely. Your equipment did not fail you, Geordi," Data said to his friend. "The laws of physics did."

"Do you have a solution, Data," the captain asked.

"I believe so, sir. We are the problem and I believe we are also the solution."

"Explain."

"As Geordi was attempting to restart the engines I noticed momentary stabilities reappear in the quantum matrix. I believe that the presence of our warp field may be acting as a stabilizing agent. Even if he can't sustain a successful reaction in the core, if the engineering team can keep the engines powered and running then I believe the rift will seal itself over time."

"How much time?"

"It will be a slow process, sir. I estimate eleven days until the rift has mended enough for our escape."

"What if we eliminate the source of the radiation," Commander Riker asked. "Would that speed up the process?"

"Perhaps," Data agreed with a nod. "But I am hesitant to try my scan again, lest I destabilize the region further.

"Agreed," the captain said after a moments thought. "Very well. Commander Laforge, make it so." Geordi nodded in reply and left for engineering. "Mr. Worf, have you relayed our situation to Alpha Sigma?"

"Yes, sir," Worf replied. "They have offered to send ships to assist. Would you like me to accept?"

"Dr. Crusher, do we have urgent need of the medical facilities on Alpha Sigma?"

"No, Captain," she said over the comm. "Most of our injuries have been superficial sprains and contusions. Lieutenant Thraxx has several fractured spines on his dorsal frill and will need to remain on light duty until it heals, but it's nothing we can't handle."

"Thank you, Doctor. Mr. Worf, please instruct Alpha Sigma that under no circumstances are they to send another ship into this region of space. The last thing we need is for another ship to be drawn into this trap as we have. Inform them that the issue will resolve itself in eleven days, or so."

"Yes, sir," Worf said as he again returned to his station.

"Deana, what is the state of the crew?"

"Surprisingly good, Captain," she began. "I sense fear and some trepidation, which should be expected. But mostly frustration. I think most of the crew know that we are in no serious danger and are… _irritated_ that our leisurely pace has been interrupted. I think a word from their captain would go a long way to alleviating this."

"Noted. Thank you, counselor."

"Do you have orders, Captain," Commander Riker asked.

Captain Picard furrowed his brow and stared into the distance for a moment.

"Our mission hasn't changed," he said at last. "The ship is in no real danger and we still have a sensor array to test. Inform Engineering and Astrometrics to continue as best they can. It may get tedious, but we'll scan the same area of space for the next eleven days, if we need to. Mr. Data, I want you to continue studying this radiation. Learn as much about it as you can and report any new findings to me."

"Understood, sir."

"And, Number One, instruct Mr. Laforge to make more power available to the holodecks," he said as a wry smile arced at the corners of his mouth. "I suspect we may have a large run on them before long."


	3. Chapter 2: A Klingon Interrupted

**Chapter 2: A Klingon Interrupted**

* * *

After his shift Worf had retired to his quarters. He traded his stiff, starched uniform for the more breathable training gi he preferred whenever he indulged in his calisthenics program. He now strode, batleth in hand, down the ships mostly vacant corridors on his way to holodeck 3.

Apart from falling into Data's quantum sinkhole the bulk of the shift went remarkably uneventfully. So much so that Mr. Worf found himself at want for something to do. Even in spite of the sudden burst of activity about mid shift he struggled with something, _anything¸_ to keep his mind from slipping into unfathomable boredom. All in all he created a new set of security drills for his security staff when they returned from leave; tweaked his departments duty shift roster twice for maximum efficiency; and ran his entire security checklist… _three times_. By the end of the shift his klingon blood was beginning to boil. He felt pent up, like a caged animal, and with a growing desire just to rip something, _anything_, to pieces. Even his shipmates.

Which explains his fast paced jaunt to the holodeck. Though a bloody disemboweling of the young Wesley Crusher as they passed might relieve a small amount of stress, the ensuing Section 8 might look bad on his resume. And so now he stood, batleth twitching in hand, before the doors of holodeck 3.

"Computer, load Klingon Calisthenics program," Worf commanded impatiently.

The computer hummed and processed his request for an unusually long time. But eventually the panel before him chimed happily at his request.

"Enter when ready," the computers monochrome voice said.

The holodecks doors slid open and Worf eagerly stepped through them as they did, almost clipping his shoulder on the door. Inside he stepped into a world of dense forest and sweltering jungle, though not the one he had intended. Gone were the dystopian ruins of his calisthenics program. Instead a dense wooded forest sprawled in every direction. The arch to his back seemed to be embedded in a steep hillside which rose behind him. Worf stomped his foot impatiently, white knuckling his batleth, before his irritated voice cut into the air.

"Computer, run Klingon Calisthenics program!"

"The program is running," the computer said.

He looked around in puzzlement before speaking again.

"Computer, load the Klingon High Council chamber."

A brief moment passed before the computer chimed and called back down to him.

"The program is loaded."

He looked around, though nothing had changed. Dense forest still sprawled out around him. Unless the High Council had done some serious redecorating, this was not the right simulation.

"Computer, load the mezzanine on the Starfleet Academy, San Francisco campus. Main building."

Another moment passed and the computer chimed down on him again.

"The program is loaded."

"Computer, confirm that this is Starfleet Academy," Worf said as he eyed his surroundings which had still not changed.

"Confirmed," the computer said after a moment to process. "Starfleet Academy, San Francisco campus, main building, mezzanine."

Worf rolled his eyes and sighed, sensing that he may need to find some other way to vent his mounting frustrations.

"Worf to Engineering," he said after tapping his comm. "Geordi, respond."

"Obrien here," the chief said. "How can I help, Lieutenant?"

"Obrien? Where is Laforge?"

"He's handling a burned out EPS relay on B deck before he logs out for the day. He's left me in charge. How can I help?"

"There's a problem with holodecks 3. It's not displaying the right program."

"Let me guess, dense forest? You've tried changing the program but it only shows the same forest in every direction? All of the holodecks are displaying it. I'll have someone take a look at it."

"When?"

"We're running a skeleton crew here, Lieutenant. I'll get to it as soon as I can but I have other priorities at the moment."

"Understood," Worf replied, an irritated bite to his voice. "Let me know when the work is completed."

"Will do, lieutenant. Obrien, out."

Worf stood at the threshold of the holodeck for a moment, batleth still twitching in hand. After a moment of angry, foot stomping hesitation he made for his quarters; praying to Kahless that he didn't run into the young Wesley Crusher along the way.

* * *

Lieutenant Barclay had been roused from a dead slumber as the ship listed beneath him only a few hours before his shift was to begin. He was tossed to the floor as the ship came to its violent halt and injured his shoulder when he landed. He made his way to sick bay where he spent almost an hour waiting for Dr. Crusher and her scant staff to wade through the more serious cases and treat him. After she treated him for a fairly minor sprain in his shoulder he made his way to engineering to see how he could help.

Being an hour old, the crisis was mostly contained by the time he got there. There wasn't much for him to do but, since his shift was about to start in a few hours anyway, he stayed on to help however he may. By the time his shift officially started he was compiling data on their most recent set of scans into a packet for Astrometrics.

"How's the scan coming, Reg," Obrien said as he approached.

"Oh, uh, w-w-well lieutenant," Barclay said with a start as Obrien seemed to sneak up on him. "The packet should be ready in about ten minutes."

"Good. Let that compile by itself and then have the results automatically sent to my terminal when they're done. I'd like you to take a break from that and go look at the holodecks."

"T-t-the h-h-holodecks, sir?"

The thought made his stomach churn. He was uneasy at the thought of returning to the holodeck, the memory of his last indiscretion with it fresh in his mind; and the rest of the crew for that matter.

"Yeah. There's a strange simulation running on every holodeck. Some kind of dense forest. I'd like you to go look into it."

"Oh, I-I-I… we… just," Barclay took a step back, closed his eyes and breathed deep and slow in a technique Deana taught him to deal with his stress before continuing. "I don't think that's wise, sir."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Well, g-g-given my recent h-h-history in… _there_," he said somewhat sheepishly. "I think it might be best if you find someone else, sir."

"Listen Reg," Obrien said, leaning in. "We all know what happened. You replicated the ship and its crew. Lived out a few fantasies and even had a tryst with the counselor."

"N-n-not… not… not the counselor," Barclay replied, shaking his head furiously.

"A replica of the counselor, then."

"An invasion of p-p-privacy," he corrected Obrien, Deana's words on the matter still fresh in his mind.

"No one blames you, Reg. Everyone has those types of fantasies, you just went a little farther than most. But you are a Starfleet officer and, personal issues aside, I expect you to do your duty."

"B-b-but why me?"

"Because, all things considered, you are the one with the most experience dealing with the holodeck. Plus we're running a skeleton crew here. And you're all caught up in your work so you're the only one I can afford to send right now. So here you go," he said, slapping a tricorder in Barclay's palm. "Start in holodeck 3."

"Holodeck 3, sir?"

"Holodeck 3. We have a pent up Klingon on board who might disembowel someone if he can't relieve some stress. And he's waiting at holodeck 3."

Normal anxieties aside, Reg wasn't actually feeling too bad when he first left Engineering. Though, as he made his way down the hall, a familiar knot began tightening in his stomach. Imperceptible at first, it soon grew and encompassed his chest, robbing him of his very breath.

He didn't mean to go see her. It was more instinct that drew him to her than anything else. He simply knew not where else to go. And so, with head down and muttering to himself, he was pulled by inexplicable forces to her door. Lost within his own mind, he thought nothing of it as he mindlessly marched through the door.

"You're not alone, here," Deana said as she took the young girls hand in hers, she could barely have been fifteen. "You have a lot of pressure on you. You're the youngest Starfleet officer in a generation, but in many ways you're still just a child. Have you been talking to Wesley?"

"Yes, and it helps," she said, dabbing the corner of her eye with a tissue. "And he's really nice, but sometimes I just feel like, I don't know…"

The pair were cut short as Barclay marched through the door, beside himself and muttering. He burst oblivious into the room and began ranting without word of apology or greeting.

"I can't do it! I can't do it! Deana, I just can't! He doesn't know what he's asking and I know I'm a Starfleet officer and I have responsibilities and people depend on me and I know it should give me strength but my legs feel like jello and my stomach feels like I ate a plate of bad Gagh… but then again I can't imagine a plate of good Gagh..."

"Should I go," the girl asked sheepishly.

"No, just wait outside for a bit," Deana said, squeezing her hand gently. "This won't take long."

As she got up to leave, the girl made eye contact with Barclay who paced furiously around the counselors office. As she did he halted mid stride and his muttering stopped, replaced with a warm smile as he beheld the girl.

"Hi, Reggie," she said timidly.

"Oh hello, Mary Sue," he said leaning in. "How are your parents?"

"Still freezing their butts off on Mars."

"Is that so," he said as a slight chuckle escaped his lips. "Give them my best, would you?"

"Okay. Well… bye."

"Goodbye, dear."

Deana was irritated with him for disturbing their counseling session. But, under the circumstances, she was glad it was Mary Sue he had interrupted. Somehow Mary Sue had a calming influence on him that Deana had not yet mastered. But Mary Sue had that effect on many of the ships crew, if only she could see it. Normally it would have taken Deana several minutes of gentle pleading to bring Barclay down from such a frothing dither. But that timid fifteen year old girl could do it with a glance.

"This is very inappropriate, Reg," Deana said, resting her head on her palm. There was a slight bite to her tone which she couldn't help. She was still reminded of how he had created a replica of her on the holodeck only a short while before and it still annoyed her. Professionally, the conflict of interest in counseling him gnawed at her, as well. She would have asked him to see another counselor if there was one present on the ship. But she did her best all the same.

"I… I… I know, Deana and I'm sorry. But I think you'll agree that I'm doing the right thing."

"Alright," she said, gesturing to the vacant seat before her. "What's on your mind?"

Eagerly Barclay slid into the seat across from her.

"Lieutenant Obrien has ordered me to go to the holodeck."

"I see," she said knowingly. "To do what?"

"There's some problem. Programs aren't loading properly. He wants me to fix it."

"Well, you were right, Reg. I'm glad you came. But, as your counselor, I'm afraid I must recuse myself from counseling you in this regard. Given my specific history in this matter," she said, watching him shrink a little at the memory. "I don't know that I'm qualified to give you impartial guidance right now. Tell me, Reg, is there anyone else on board who you trust to be a voice of reason in this matter?"

Barclay thought for a moment and the light of hope dimmed in his eyes as he could think of no one. But it rekindled and burned brightly as one option, the only true option, revealed itself to him.

"Data," he called out. "Could we talk to Data?"

Without a word the counselor leaned back and tapped on her communicator.

"Troi to Data."

"Data here," he responded after a moment. "How can I help, counselor?"

"If I'm not disturbing you, could you come by my office?"

"Of course. Is there a problem?"

"Lieutenant Barclay and I need your counsel on something. Could you hurry?"

"Of course. I am on my way."

True to his word Data arrived a few short minutes later. Outside the door Mary Sue could still be seen waiting patiently, grinding her toe childishly into the floor.

"Counselor, how may I be of assistance," he said as he took an empty seat beside Barclay. Deana took a moment to explain the situation to Data who nodded thoughtfully. "I see, counselor. I understand why you called. This certainly does qualify as a conflict of interest. Reg, what outcome do you hope to achieve here?"

Barclay stuttered and stammered for a moment as the right words eluded him.

"Well… I think someone else should do this for me," he said at last.

"Why?"

"I… well… just… I just don't want to fall back into my addiction. That's all."

"And I for one am inclined to agree," the counselor added. "I think he did the mature thing by coming here. He's in a very fragile state right now and I don't know if he can handle the added temptation."

"Yes, indeed he did the right thing," Data agreed. "But he is still a Starfleet officer. And there comes a time when being an officer means that you must set your own feelings aside and do what is necessary for the good of the ship."

"But are the holodecks really necessary for the 'good of the ship'? It seems to me that we are asking him to endure an increased temptation, to which he has succumbed in the past, for the sake of our own petty enjoyment. I don't see that it's that important."

"The captain would disagree with you. He has made the holodecks a priority because he knows that crew morale will suffer as the tedium of this assignment rises. Already Lieutenant Worf was visibly agitated by the end of his shift and it is only the first day. Morale will only deteriorate faster if we do not get those holodecks fixed."

The counselor said nothing at first, but only nodded her agreement.

"But surely there must be someone else who could do this, even with our skeleton crew?"

"I do not believe so, counselor. Presumably Chief Obrien understands the situation and what is at stake. He would not have assigned the lieutenant if there was any other option."

"That's true," Barclay agreed. "That's very true."

"I believe your path is clear," Data said, turning to Barclay. "This task has been given to you. And you are the one who must see it through. There is no other."

"Reg, I'm going to strongly advise you against this," Deana added. "I think you are placing yourself at a much greater risk of temptation and relapse. But the decision is yours. I leave it to you."

Barclay closed his eyes, furrowed his brow and thought hard for a good, long minute before coming to a conclusion. As he did he took a deep breath and sighed, a look of calm awash over his face.

"I think I'm okay," he said at last. "I think I can do this. I think I'll be okay."

"Are you sure, Reg?"

"Yes," he said again, though more confidently. "Mr. Data is right. This task has been appointed to me. And I'm the one who needs to see it through. Thank you, counselor; Mr. Data. I can do this!"

Barclay got up to leave but he was halted by Counselor Troi who placed a firm hand over his and squeezed it tightly.

"Reg, if this is what you think is best then so be it," she said, staring intently into his eyes. "But, whatever you do, promise me that you won't go any further into the simulation than you need to."

"I believe the counselor is right," Data said. "You must perform your duties, but there is no profit in placing yourself at unnecessary risk of relapse. You should be able to do most of your work from the main access panel in the arch. Venture into the simulation if you must, but if you do not feel that you can without succumbing to temptation then feel free to call for help, if you need it. Either Geordi or I would be happy to assist."

"Yes," Barclay agreed, nodding vigorously. "Yes, thank you, Data. You're right. I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Counselor."

Without a further word he stood from his chair and made for the door with renewed vigor.

* * *

After he had left Deana's office, saying a passing farewell to Mary Sue along the way, he made a bee line for the holodeck. He trod along with renewed pep in his step, almost as if some purpose lay within it. It took him nary five minutes to reach holodeck 3 and, much to his own surprise, did not regret it when he landed there. Though the fact that Worf was nowhere to be seen may have played a part. He wasn't looking forward to explaining what took so long to a pent up klingon with a batleth twitching in hand.

After arriving at the holodeck he took a moment to study the readings on the panel by the door. He confirmed the readings on his tricorder and ran a preliminary diagnostic with the computer. Seconds later the diagnostic was complete and reported all systems functioning properly and his tricorder, rather curiously, agreed.

"Computer, what program is running in holodeck 3?"

"Starfleet Academy, San Francisco campus, main building, mezzanine."

"Show on the display."

An image appeared on the panel, but not that of Starfleet academy. Instead the computer displayed an image of some strange, dense forest sprawling in every direction. A flock of strange blue, red and yellow birds fluttered by the screen as he watched.

"Computer, display the program running in holodeck 2. Authorization Barclay-1337."

The computer chimed in response and displayed a familiar arboreal landscape. A tribe of some kind of ape like creature passed by the monitor, on the upper left side. Though they appeared apish, they were shorter and squatter with rabbit like ears which they kept tied back with thick, leather straps.

"What program is this?"

"Chez Sandrine, Marseille, France."

"Confirm, please," he said as he worked on his tricorder.

"Confirmed," the computer responded, and his tricorder agreed. "The Chez Sandrine in Marseille, France."

"What program is running in holodeck 12?"

"The Alps Super Ski Adventure, authored by Ensign Javier Martinez. Would you like to display?"

"Yes, please."

Again that same forest sprawled in every direction. Two bewildered crewmates stood scratching their heads, decked from head to toe in cold weather gear with skis and poles draped over their shoulders.

"What program is running in holodeck 15?"

"A replica of Quarks casino and bar on starbase Deep Space 9. Would you like to display?"

"Yes," Barclay said absent mindedly as he worked to confirm the readings on his tricorder.

Another image displayed on his screen, though not a single Dabo table was in sight. Only more trees as far as the eye could see.

"Computer, what simulation is running in holodeck 6?"

"Ponfar Princesses, Illogical Vulcan Hotties, volume 3. Would you like to display?"

"Yes, please," he said absent mindedly, still fumbling with his tricorder. "No! Wait! I mean… no. I don't want to see that!"

"Understood," the computer said and the screen before him went blank.

"And I thought _I_ had problems," Barclay said to himself. "Alright, open the arch. I'm coming in."

Barclay slid through the doors and into the simulation. The view was much the same as he had seen on the display. Dense wood stretched in every direction and the trees formed a thick wall of green before him. Deep within the forest he heard the snapping of a branch followed by a snort and a deep, guttural growl.

"C-c-computer, confirm that the safety protocols are engaged," he said, somewhat panicked.

"Confirmed," the computer said back. "Safety protocols are operational."

Not that the computers word meant a thing in the world at this point. But hearing the words made Barclay feel better, all the same. With his mind at ease, or at least somewhat, he knelt in the arch and removed several access panels there. He sighed as he beheld the rows of circuits, isolinear chips and bio-neural gel packs packed in the space before him. Any of which may be responsible for this latest malfunction. With tricorder in hand he settled in and began the monotonous task of scanning each one for any possible defect.

A little better than 10 minutes into his work he found himself distracted by the monotony of it. With Deana's warning still in the back of his mind he allowed himself a small respite as he took in the scene in the holodeck. It was a remarkably nice day, all things considered. The air was warm and humid with nary a wisp of cloud in the sky. The trees swayed gently in the breeze and whatever creature stalked in the forest earlier had shuffled off to forage elsewhere. As he sat another flock of those strange red and yellow birds flew by. Though one broke formation as they passed and came to inspect him more closely.

It was a strange little thing, perhaps 6-8 inches tall with a red body and blue legs. It also bore a yellow crest atop its head and a strange, downy, black pouch dangled below its beak. It reminded Barclay of the waddle on a turkeys neck. He eyed the bird curiously and the bird eyed him back, just as curiously. Then it filled the black pouch on its neck with air and called to him.

"Prrrudee!"

Its voice was strange to him. It was clearly a bird cry, yet the air reverberating through its downy pouch made it seem deep and soulful. One might say even somewhat human. Barclay couldn't help but smile warmly at the creature that looked up at him and repeated its call a few more times. As it did it was joined by more of its flock who regarded him curiously. Each as they arrived would chirp that same happy tune.

"Prrrudee! Prrrudee!"

To Barclay, the tune almost sounded like a question and each in turn would ask it. Soon he was joined by 3. Then 6 and 8 and 10. Before long he was surrounded by nearly two dozen of the creatures, all singing their happy little tune. Slowly, so as not to startle the creatures, he reached out his hand to one of them. It hopped on eagerly and Barclay was surprised by its weight.

"Prrrudee!"

"Well, prudee to you, too," Barclay said with a smile.

As the two were having their conversation, such as it was, one of the birds looked past Barclay into the open doorway beyond. Without a word he hopped down from his perch, a low hanging branch, and flutterd toward the door, calling to his brethren behind him.

"Prrrudee! Prrrudee!"

"No, don't!"

Barclay tried to stop them, but it was too late. Several of the birds had broken from their flock and raced through the door in the arch. As they did they immediately disintegrated, vanishing into nothingness. The bird roosting on Barclays hand jumped with a start, ruffling its feathers, as it watched its fellows disintegrate before him. It looked to Barclay now, its eyes wide with terror. The bird released another tweet, though hardly a happy one as it leapt from his hand and darted into the forest and its flock with it. With his back to the door, Barclay watched them fly into the forest as strange new thoughts swirled about his head.

"This is wrong," he thought aloud.

"What is wrong," a commanding voice boomed from behind. Barclay turned with a start to see Worf approaching from the rear. He was still in his training gi, batleth in hand.

"Oh, uh… Mr. Worf! What brings you here?"

"I am checking your progress. Have you isolated the problem yet?"

"N-n-no, I'm afraid not," he said, shrinking at the klingons glower. "I-I-I think we m-m-may actually have a larger problem."

"What problem," Worf said impatiently.

"Well… It was the birds."

"The birds?"

"Yes, sir. Y-y-you see, the birds… the little r-r-red birds, they flew through the arch, g-g-got disintegrated and were afraid."

The icy glower still stretched across Worfs face showed that he clearly didn't understand. Barclay took a step back, calmed himself and took a few deep breaths before trying again.

"C-c-characters on the holodeck are programmed not to react to stimuli from the holodeck itself. Otherwise they would react every time the arch was opened, spoiling the illusion. Instead they are programmed not to respond to any queues from the holodeck or commands given by the player to the computer.

"But these birds clearly recognized the arch. They recognized it as a doorway and tried to fly through it. They were disintegrated, of course, and the others saw and reacted. They shouldn't have been able to do this. If they were reacting as a program should then they shouldn't have reacted at all. But they did, which leads me to believe that there may be more going on here than we know."

The two regarded each other for a moment before Barclay tapped his lapel communicator, mostly to escape Worf's piercing stare.

"B-B-Barclay to Obrien."

"Obrien here. Go Barclay."

"Chief, I think we may have a more serious problem with the holodecks than we thought. I would like to run a level one and two diagnostic on the primary processors and secondary emitter array. It may also be necessary to purge the cache in local memory and perform a full reboot of the tertiary…"

Barclay was cut short by a curious sound from deep within the forest. It wasn't the growling snorts of some beast thrashing through the brush, but something different, more unnatural. It was the frantic thrashing one might expect of a creature thrashing madly to escape a predator. Worf heard it too, for he came forward and brought his batleth to the ready.

"Barclay? Barclay, are you there," Obrien said over the comm. "I think I lost you for a moment."

"Stand by, Obrien. Barclay out."

Worf pressed first into the wood, followed closely by Barclay. Barclay followed so close, in fact, that Worf had to elbow him back more than once. As they approached the noise it was not long before the voices of people could be heard as well.

"M-M-Mr. Worf, are you sure this is wise," Barclay whispered as loud as he dared. Though whether Worf heard him or not is anyone's guess. He simply pressed on. The look about his face was that of a lion or wolf stalking its hapless and unsuspecting quarry through the bush. Stalking silently the clamor grew and grew before them. Before long it would appear that the din was stalking them as well for it seemed to be drawing near all on its own. As they continued on their collision course it became clear that this was no mere clamor of men, but some rabble engaged in deadly battle. Just beyond a thorny thicket and out of sight the clash of steel on steel could be heard. Shouted orders grew ever louder as the battle made its way toward them.

"Mr. Worf, I-I-I think this is unwise," Barclay begged to Worfs Back. But Worf ignored him, his klingon blood drawing him to the sounds of battle as a moth to a flame. Though, as the battle grew nearer, Worf raised his hand to Barclay, showing the first inclination that he even knew Barclay was there. He gestured silently that they should fall back and Barclay gladly did so. When they had fallen back another twenty yards or so Worf beckoned that Barclay should cover behind a stand of boulders off to their left. Worf covered behind a thick tree trunk off to their right. And there they waited.

But they needn't wait long for very soon thereafter a strange, hooded form burst through the thicket in full retreat from the battle behind. It crashed through the brush unawares as it passed directly between Barclay and Worf. As it did Worf swept low with the backside of his batleth, tripping the figure who landed in prostration in the soft earth of the forest floor. Before the figure could recover he kicked it onto its back. The figure attempted to reach for something beneath its belt, an obsidian cross, but Worf kicked it away. He brought a heavy boot down on the figures hand while the blade of his batleth kissed the figures neck.

With the figure subdued, Barclay came forward to look. He was shocked to see what appeared to be a vulcan woman, of all things, though her eyes were larger and more almond shaped. Not even a woman, a girl in fact. She couldn't have been more than 17. She was clad in a black, hooded mantle or cape and beneath that a simple grey tunic and black boots. She looked up at them, her eyes wide with dread as the batleth pressed deeply into her neck.

But as Barclay regarded her, there was something surprisingly human in those large, almond eyes. It was difficult for him to put a finger on, but there was a life there. Not merely a simulated presence as with other holodeck characters. There was a certain gleam in those large, green eyes such as he had yet to see in any mere holodeck character.

"Please, help," she begged, pleading with her eyes. "They're coming!"

Barclay wasn't sure why he stepped between Worf and the girl but within seconds and much in spite of himself, his hand was soon on Worfs batleth, gently guiding it away from her neck. Worf scolded Barclay with his eyes but he never paid any attention as he helped the girl to her feet. As the sounds of battle drew ever nearer, more figures burst through the thicket behind them.

The first was a small wisp of a man. His clothes, which once had been finely tailored and pressed, were now torn and sullied. He wore glasses on his face and clutched something like a large book or tome tightly to his breast. The next to stumble through the thicket was a warrior of some sort. Covered from head to toe in thick, leather armor the warrior also sported a metal helmet on his head and carried two worn battle axes, one in each hand. The third, following closely on the warriors heels, appeared to be a 13 year old human boy. He was dressed in similar fashion as the vulcan girl though his cloak was mottled green. He also bore something resembling a quarterstaff in his hand.

Everyone exchanged shocked glances for a second, not knowing what to do with each other. But, reacting with a start after laying eyes on Worf, the warrior quickly drew his axes and brought them to bear on the klingon. The young man behind them followed suit as he began flanking left. It appeared that they would have come to blows if the vulcan woman hadn't intervened.

"Stop," she commanded, stepping between them. "Stop! They're not Minion!" Cautiously the pair lowered their weapons while she retrieved her cross which landed a few feet away. "I don't know who you are," she said, turning to Barclay and Worf. "But we need to move, right now!"

Worf and Barclay didn't argue as she tore through the bush ahead of them. To their rear the sound of many boots crashing toward the wall of thicket behind them was their queue to exit. They thrashed through the brush as fast as they may but they only just kept ahead of the strange army which crashed through the thicket. Dozens of men clothed in red and black armor scrambled after them. They fanned out as they gave chase and their archers took shots whenever they had the opportunity.

Worf was staggered as he took an arrow through the shoulder. He had suffered injuries on the holodeck before. Owing to his klingon physiology Dr. Crusher had given him special clearance to run holodeck programs with reduced safety protocols. But this was something altogether different. As the arrow punched through his shoulder he howled and grasped his shoulder with his free hand. He felt the arrow as it protruded painfully and hot blood seeped from between his fingers.

"Worf to security," he said, tapping his comm badge. "All remaining security personnel, holodeck 3! This is not a drill. We are being chased by unknown assailants and safety protocols are off. I repeat, safety protocols are off!"

The party continued under fire until they broke the tree line and came upon the arch. An expression of relief washed across the young womans face as she beheld the open door.

"This way," she called to her comrades. "This way! I see a way out."

With all haste the newcomers raced for the arch but Barclay, knowing what may befall them if they stepped through, interceded. Just as the young woman was on the threshold of the arch he caught her and pulled her off to the side, thrusting her against the wall.

"What are you doing," she spat angrily.

"S-s-saving your life," Barclay responded.

Seeing the maneuver the leather clad warrior charged Barclay, making ready to rend him in two with his axes. He would have succeeded if Worf hadn't checked him into hard into the hillside. As for the wisp of a man, he simply clung tightly to his book, not knowing what else to do. The 13 year old boy seemed utterly beside himself as the red and black army closed in around them.

But hope was not lost for soon phaser fire erupted from within the arch as the security team arrived. They set up a perimeter around Worf, Barclay and their holographic companions as their pursuers pressed in around them. There were nearly half a dozen security present but they were severely outnumbered.

As they traded fire with the unknown assailants the intruders worked with a remarkable degree of coordination in routing the security forces away from the arch entrance. A smaller group of archers, perhaps less than a dozen, kept security pinned at the arch while a larger force of footmen circled around on the left. When they were in place they charged the security in their entrenched position, forcing them to fall back. Security was forced to hunker down and set up a new perimeter about 30 yards west of their former position. And with the arch clear the intruders were happy to leave them to it, thinking that their way was clear.

"We finally have a way out, boys," their commander shouted. "Let's go!"

"What's going on," the girl asked as she saw their pursuers throng the door. The security entrenched around them had stopped firing when the intruders entered the arch. "Why aren't you firing? Don't you want to stop them from going through that door?"

No one answered her at first, thinking her a simple hologram. But after a time of being ignored, and only a short one, her anger manifested. A strange light pulsed in her eyes and the air trembled at the sound of her voice.

"Somebody talk to me," she demanded, catching the entire security team off guard.

"There's no point in shooting them," one young ensign said off to her right. "Matter created on the holodeck can't exist off the holodeck. Without the holo-emitters to give them substance they'll lose cohesion as soon as they step through the door."

"What? Speak English!"

"What he means is that you're safe," Barclay said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "As soon as they step through that door they'll be vaporized."

No one understood her reaction or that of her companions. Rather than relief that their ordeal was nearly over a look of dread horror washed across her face. Together she and her comrades stepped in front of the makeshift barricade the security had fashioned and called desperately to those who had pursued them only minutes before. They pleaded with them to stop, implored with them that they knew not what they were doing but their pursuers would have none of it. Their warnings fell on deaf ears and the soldiers in black pressed on anyway.

As one they broke rank and swarmed the arch as they piled through the door. But as the first passed through the result was as one might expect and he disintegrated immediately. The next in line, having seen this, begged his companions to stop but it was too late. Their well ordered company had devolved into a mob. Those at the fore knew their fate but were helpless to do anything about it as those at the rear pushed them forward into doom. Before those at the rear knew what was happening they had lost nearly half of their number. Better than a dozen men gone; vanished into thin air.

Disheveled and confused the remaining soldiers turned their frustrations on the arch itself. Thinking it some new devilry, they smashed the controls with the hilts of their swords and took a boot to the open control panels down below. Paying no heed to what they were doing they clawed at the circuits, smashed the isolinear chips and crushed the gel-packs under foot. In their efforts they soon found the door controls, though not by design, and smashed them as well. They were shocked as the door shut and sealed tight behind them.

Capitalizing on this new opportunity the security team burst from behind their makeshift cover and raced to the arch. They stood back a good ten paces, or so, holding their phasers at the ready. The intruders, for their part, realized that the battle was over. With their number reduced by half in one fell swoop, backed into a corner with nowhere to go and all hope of escape robbed of them they laid down their weapons. After disarming them, security set up an impromptu holding area to the east until the captain could decide what to do with them.

Barclay and Worf still regarded their new companions curiously as they had grown unusually sullen in the face of victory. All but the girl, that is, who had crumpled to the ground. Her shoulders heaved and her jet black hair hid a tear streaked face as she sobbed uncontrollably.

"They wanted to go home," she managed to get out between sobs. "They only wanted to go home."


	4. Chapter 3: Just a Game

**Chapter 3: Just a Game**

* * *

As the angry mob of men thrashed against the controls in the arch, one upon which they thrashed was the door controls. The controls were shorted by an angry boot which burst one of the bio-neural gel packs and sent its contents splattering over the isolinear circuitry below. The door shut hard behind them and remained closed fast until security was able to subdue them. Barclay tried fixing it himself, but all he had at his disposal was his tricorder which was hardly any use against burst gel packs and shattered isolinear chips. He got on the comm and requested that Obrien send someone with proper tools to fix the door.

It wasn't long before he heard a muffled clamor on the other side. Someone was attempting to pry the door, but to no avail. The tinkering on the other side soon subsided and the engineering team Obrien had dispatched materialized on their side of the door. He was mildly surprised to see Geordi leading the team, but none more than the newcomers who acted as though they had never seen a site to site transport before. They reacted with just as much shock when Dr. Crusher and her medical staff materialized to tend to Mr. Worf and the rest of the security team.

Barclay helped Geordi and his team fix the shattered door controls while Dr. Crusher tended to security. After she was done she moved to the newcomers and began examining them. Her brow furrowed and she focused intently on her tricorder, which was feeding her some interesting yet contradictory readings. She continued her work as the newcomers remained unusually sullen. Finally one of them, the skinny wisp of a man, took the tome he had been clutching to his chest and laid it on the bare ground. Then he loosed a clasp on the front and opened a small door set in its cover. Opening it wide an impossibly large space lay behind the door. He reached inside and pulled a most curious thing from within; as he reached his arm into the tome, up to his elbow, a tiny woman scrambled up his arm and sat perched on shoulder. A bizarre little thing, she couldn't have stood more than 10 inches tall from the tips of her toes to the top of her little, blond head. As she sat upon his shoulder she stared with focused intensity at Mr. Worf who was being treated by members of the medical team.

"Master Fractal, why does that mans head look like an angry bum," she asked after a good long stare. The man reached up and patted her on the shoulder, urging her to be silent as Worfs glower made his blood run as ice through his veins.

It took nearly 20 minutes, but eventually Geordi and Barclay managed to get the doors open again. Geordi informed the captain of their progress and shortly thereafter he passed through the arch to check their progress personally.

"Dr. Crusher, report," he said as he approached the doctor who was finishing her scans on the young woman.

"Mostly minor injuries, Captain," the doctor replied. "Cuts and scrapes on the security team but Mr. Worf took an arrow through the shoulder. I've removed the arrow and stabilized the wound but he's showing signs of shock. I should get him to sickbay as soon as possible. And, apart from some obvious signs of shock, there are no notable injuries on our guests."

"Our guests," the captains said, puzzled, as he looked past the doctor to the motley crew sitting on the dirt behind her. "They're holograms, doctor," he said impatiently as he turned to the door, preparing to check on Laforge's progress.

"I'm not so sure, Captain," the doctor called after him. Picard halted in his tracks and turned to meet her.

"Explain," he said.

Immediately Dr. Crusher opened her medical tricorder and called up the readings she had taken of their guests only moments before. She stood beside the captain as she explained her anomalous data.

"Given the bizarre behavior they exhibited, for holograms, I ran with a hunch and took some readings of them. A hologram should have no bio-neural signature to detect since they have no biological systems to generate them. But look here," she said, pointing to her display. She scrolled between each reading she took and each displayed its own very unique, very individual set of brain wave activity. "Each of these individuals is giving off their own bio-neural signature. They have no corporeal form but the holographic forms we see, yet somehow they are all showing distinct signs of brain wave activity. All but the little one," she said, pointing to the 10 inch tall woman on the slender mans shoulder. "She reads like a regular hologram."

"Do you have an explanation, Doctor?"

"I couldn't venture a guess at this point, Captain. I would suggest talking to them. But please be careful. It's difficult to tell with my equipment, I am getting some very contradictory readings from them, but they may be going into shock as well. Try not to press them too hard."

The captain nodded and straightened his uniform before walking over to the group. They still sat, under guard, on the soft earth of the forest floor.

"Who among you is in charge," the captain asked.

It took a moment for anyone to respond but eventually the young Vulcan woman stood to meet him. Her eyes were red from crying and her tears had cut deep channels in the dust caked on her cheeks. Apart from the rest of her hair, which was obsidian black, locks of blood red hair framed her face like a picture.

"My name is Captain Jean-Luc Picard," the captain said, eyeing her closely. "Are you V'tosh ka'tur?"

"What?"

"It means 'Vulcan without logic'."

"What's a Vulcan," she asked, her voice cracked slightly at the question.

The Captain decided not to press how she could possibly not know what a Vulcan was.

"What's your name," he asked.

"Rose," she said very absent mindedly. It was as though her mind was miles away from her body.

"And your companions," the captain pressed, though gently.

"The guy with the armor is Roth. The thin man is Fractal. The little woman on his shoulder is Genie. The kid in the camo cloak is my apprentice, Phoenix."

"Perhaps you could take your time and tell me what you're doing on my ship."

"Your ship," Rose said, meeting his gaze. "What do you mean 'your ship'? We're not on any ship. What are you doing in Caldera?"

"Caldera? Is that what you call this place?"

She said nothing but nodded, sullen and silent.

"What is this place?"

She said nothing at first, only staring into the distance.

"Miss," the captain pressed, leaning in.

"It's a game," she said at last, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. "It's just a game."

"A game? Like a computer simulation?"

She nodded silently.

"It's just a game," she repeated.

Picard pressed her for more information but she was less than forthcoming. The harder he pressed the more the vacant look grew on her face. Finally she grew numb and a catatonic expression enveloped her face and she stopped responding to any stimulus at all. Gently Dr. Crusher stepped between them and led the captain away by the arm.

"I would advise against any further questioning, Captain," she said. "She's clearly going into shock and needs immediate attention."

"Can you do anything for her, doctor?"

"Not much, Captain. I'm a physician and strictly speaking they are still holograms. They don't have a body for me to treat so my usefulness is pretty much at an end, here. I can keep them calm and administer some basic first aid for shock, but not much else."

"I need answers, Doctor."

"Then I suggest you contact counselor Troi. She will be of more use than me, at the moment."

"Very well," the captain said after a moments thought. "Have the counselor report here immediately and begin treating these people. Let me know as soon as you learn anything and we'll have a staff meeting in the observation lounge."

Deana arrived shortly thereafter. She immediately began counseling the newcomers. She spent most of her time with Rose, who seemed at times on the verge of passing out. The captain remained for a short while, conversing with Laforge over the extent of the damage and the state of repairs.

"It looks worse than it is, sir," Laforge said. "It's mostly superficial. We'll need to rebuild the primary interlinear chipset array, but we can replace most of the damaged components from storage. We're under crewed, but I estimate a little over an hour and a half to finish the repairs."

"Mr. Barclay, have you determined what this simulation is?"

"N-n-not quite, Captain," Barclay said as he drew near, clutching his tricorder tightly in his hands. "I know what it isn't. It isn't any program in our computer bank and it doesn't seem to be a beamed transmission of any sort."

"That's remarkably unhelpful, Mr. Barclay."

Reg closed his eyes and thought hard before responding.

"T-t-there also seems to be a c-c-cascading feedback loop in the p-p-primary buffer array, sir," he said at last. "There are also signs of quantum locking in the primary HUI processor, sir."

"Quantum locking," the captain asked, puzzled. "To what, Mr. Barclay?"

"Unknown, sir. I'm still working on it."

"Very well. Keep me appraised. Doctor, have you made any progress with our guests?"

"Not much, Captain," she said, joining the group. "We've administered basic first aid for shock and Deana has managed to keep them calm. I would let them rest, but it may be possible to question them again shortly. But beyond that there's nothing I can do. My instruments are wasted on holographic bodies, so unless you can find a way to materialize a body for me to examine I think I'm done here."

The captain nodded his acknowledgement before noticing Barclay out of the corner of his eye. It looked as though he was biting his tongue hard on something.

"What is it, Mr. Barclay?"

"Oh, uh… me, Sir? Well, I was just thinking… that is, that it may be possible to give Dr. Crusher what she wants."

"How so," the captain asked and Barclay felt himself shrink under the groups gaze.

"Well, uh… current holographic t-t-technology is based on the manipulation of photons and magnetic fields to give the illusion of substance. But early holodecks made use of technology similar to our transporter or replicators."

The captain bore a perplexed gaze on his face, unsure of where Barclay was going with this. But Geordi's brow furrowed and he thought hard, nodding as he began to see where Barclay was coming from.

"Yeah, Reg, that's good," he said, putting a hand on Barclays shoulder. "Captain, early holodecks worked by creating actual matter just like our transporters and replicators. They were abandoned in favor of current models because of the extreme amounts of power needed to sustain the projection, not to mention the computational power. If we can connect the transporter array to the holodecks and use the replicator network to aid in processing, this would allow the doctor to perform her examinations. And they would even be able to leave the holodeck for short periods before losing cohesion, so she could take them to sickbay."

"That sounds like an extreme undertaking, Mr. Laforge," the captain said. "What work is required?"

"Not much, really. We already have all the systems we need installed on the ship. We will need to run a trinary adjunct relay between the holodeck, transporters and replicators but we should be able to do this virtually with the comm system acting as a vector. I will need to take the transporters offline and we will need to use replicator subroutines to aid in processing, so some of the replicator network will go down as well. I'll try to confine this to the quarters of crew on leave but you should tell Guinnen to prepare for a rush on ten forward."

"What will this do to the comm network? We can't lose communications, Mr. Laforge."

"Impact on the comms will be minimal, Captain. Chatter is already low since we're running a skeleton crew, anyway. The network can easily handle the extra load."

"You mentioned power requirements?"

"Substantial, Captain. We'll need to run the engines hot just to keep up. But, if Data's calculations are correct, increasing our power consumption should help close the rift that much faster."

"How much time do you need?"

"It's mostly soft work, Captain. Reg and Obrien should be able to do most of the work from engineering before my team and I finish repairing the arch."

"Doctor, will this suffice?"

"It's hard to say, Captain," Dr. Crusher replied. "It may give them mass, but that's not the same as giving them a body. It's like making a clay sculpture of a picture of a shuttlecraft and expecting it to fly. But, even so, if I had some mass to examine it might help me answer a few questions for you.

"Very well. Mr. Barclay, make it so," the captain ordered.

"Y-y-yes, sir," Barclay said and made his way to engineering.

True to Geordi's word, Obrien and Barclay finished their work just over an hour later. Geordi had left his team repairing the arch to help stabilize the engines for the increased strain they were about to be put under. In the end it was Barclay and Obrien who found themselves waiting on Geordi to finish his final checklist before they could proceed. With everything well in hand, Obrien sent Barclay to the holodeck to monitor the process from that end.

"Doctor, are you prepared to proceed," Obrien asked over the comm.

"I'm ready," she said. Most of her medical team had long gone with only nurse Ogawa staying behind. Deana had remained behind as well.

"Alright. Barclay, watch those power readings and keep them stable. The emitters can handle the extra power we'll be feeding them but only if we can increase the flow slowly and steadily. Any sudden spikes will overload the matrix."

"Understood, Obrien. I'm ready on my end."

"Copy that. Increasing power."

Barclay paid close attention on his tricorder as Obrien slowly increased the power. First to 60% of tolerance, then to 70%. Eventually it rose to 80% and then 90% before cresting 100% of tolerance, though it didn't stop there. Barclay maintained a watchful vigil on the rising power levels, making careful adjustments on his tricorder, as the power levels rose to 120%, 150% and 180% of maximum. Eventually the power levels plateaued at about 198% of maximum. Barclay kept a wary eye on the readings and, though the emitter array was now bearing almost twice its maximum intended load, the readings were stable.

"Power levels are stable," Barclay said after a moment to confirm his readings. "You may begin your transfer."

"Copy that. Transferring holodeck data to replicators and marrying holodeck emitters to transporters in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…"

The lights outside the holodeck fluttered gently as the transition was made and the engine groaned slightly under the added strain. But Barclay was unaware as the view in the holodeck remained the same.

"Barclay, transfer complete. Can you confirm?"

"Copy that, Obrien. I read transfer complete. Thank you, Chief."

"Yeah. I'll keep someone on watch up here to ensure power levels remain stable. Call if you need anything else. Obrien out."

Barclay re-holstered his tricorder and gave a nod to the doctor. Together she and Alyssa began taking readings of their guests. The doctor smiled brightly as new readings flooded her tricorder.

"We have mass," she said happily. "Let's get you guys to sick bay and get some answers."

* * *

The doctor and nurse Ogawa performed an extremely thorough examination on their guests using the more advanced equipment in sickbay. When they were finished, Dr. Crusher called the captain who gathered his senior staff in the observation lounge for a meeting. In attendance were Barclay and Obrien with Laforge being absent, his shift having ended hours ago. Dr. Crusher and Deana were present as was Data who had new information on the nebula. Mr. Worf represented security and the newcomers were there as well, sitting opposite the senior staff. Commander Riker was present too, though his shift had also ended. He took his seat by the captain.

"Doctor, have you news," the captain asked as he slid into his seat at the head of the table.

"Yes, Captain and I think you're going to want to hear this," she said, turning to the counselor who had taken a seat beside Rose. "Deana."

"Rose," Deana said, leaning in toward the young girl. Though the doctor had been able to afford her better treatment after the procedure, Rose still seemed miles away as she stared out the window into the inky black of space. "Rose, can you hear me?"

"We _really are_ on a space ship," Rose said absent mindedly, still staring out the window.

"Rose," Deana said again, taking the girls hand and squeezing it firmly. "Rose, I need you to concentrate."

"Right, sorry," she said, snapping back into the moment.

"Now, I know this is getting tedious, but I need to ask again. Can you please tell me the date?"

Rose breathed deeply and sighed. Deana was right. This was getting tedious as this was nearly the fourth time Rose had been asked that question in the last two hours.

"It is December 21, 2110," Rose said, an impatient bite to her tone.

"What date is it," the captain asked, leaning in with interest.

"December 21," Rose repeated cautiously, noting the gesture. "2110."

"There's more, Captain," Deana said, still squeezing the girls hand. "Rose, what planet are you from?"

"Earth," Rose said, still cautious. "Just like you."

Deana said nothing, but only smiled knowingly. She decided not to press the issue.

"If _he's_ from Earth then Earth has problems," Genie said, her gaze still fixated by Worfs cranial ridges.

"Don't worry about her," Roth said, noting the deepening scowl growing on Worfs face. "She'll grow on you. Or you'll have a psychotic episode. Whichever comes first."

"Miss Rose," the captain said as he leaned on the table, clasping his hands in front of him. "I don't know of any gentle way to say this, so I'll put it bluntly. It is not the year 2110. We use a different system to tell time, but the actual year is closer to _2360_. Somehow you have stepped nearly 250 years into the future."

Almost in one accord the newcomers slumped back in their chairs, the news hitting them like a ton of bricks. All but Fractal, who leaned in with great interest at the news. So much so that he nearly pitched Genie from his shoulder to the floor as he did.

"But how is that possible," Fractal asked with great interest.

"An excellent question," the captain replied, turning to the doctor. "Doctor, what did your examinations yield?"

"Apart from the mass, their bodies appear to be fully formed and functional, albeit on a more simplistic scale. I would say that they are excellently designed approximations of human and proto-vulcan physiology, though designed by someone who is not an expert in either. Furthermore, their bodies have a faint chronometric signature, Captain. A sure sign of temporal displacement."

"But if they have been temporally displaced from Earth then how is it possible that they could know nothing of Vulcans," the captain said, gesturing to Rose. "2110 is well after First Contact."

"I believe I have formed a hypothesis, Captain," Data said.

"Proceed, Mr. Data."

"As per your request, I have continued my scans of the nebula and the bizarre radiation. Upon further examination I have determined that the radiation bears a distinct chronometric signature. I would hypothesize that this radiation, which we now know to be chronometric in nature, is also wearing away at the fabric of time as well as space. My hypothesis is that this radiation has eaten away at space and time to such a degree that quantum realities are now essentially rubbing against each other. Not just in space, but time as well. As such, when the Enterprise became lodged in the quantum rift which now holds us, it allowed our reality to briefly come into contact with theirs."

"Is there a danger that we will be lodged in their reality permanently?"

"No, Captain. The barriers between quantum realities have become weakened and thin, but they are holding. What we are experiencing is akin to staying in a hotel room with extremely thin walls and hearing the conversations going on in the next room. In our case it also allows us to tap in to whatever simulation they are running and display the information on our holodeck. It also explains how they could not know about Vulcans. In their reality First Contact simply hasn't happened yet."

The other newcomers were lost and confused as soon as Data started talking. All but two, that is. Fractal and Genie listened intently as the conversation continued around them.

"B-b-but how could that be, D-D-Data," Barclay asked. "I detected no transmissions from any source?"

"I b-b-believe I may have an answer," Fractal added excitedly. "I'm s-s-sorry C-C-Captain, I hope I'm not breaking any type of p-p-protocol…"

"Not at all," Picard said. "If you have something to contribute, please do so."

"Thank you, C-c-captain," Fractal said, turning to Reg. "Mr. Barclay, do your sensors have the ability to perceive quantum signatures in the range of 2.238 Petaherz?"

"I'm u-u-unfamiliar with the measurement you're using," Barclay said after a moment of thought. "But yes, we can detect quantum signatures in a wide range of frequencies."

"I see. Mr. Barclay, I am unfamiliar with your computer system. But please think of whatever resembles a graphics processor in your computer. Have you noticed any strange looping or buffering? Perhaps any kind of freezing? Or quantum locking?"

"Why, yes! There is a cascading feedback loop in the primary buffer array. I also detected some quantum locking in our HUI."

"Fascinating. And what does the HUI do?"

"It's our Holographic User Interface. It performs a similar function to the GUI on some of the older digital computers."

"I see. Captain, I believe I know what has happened," Fractal said, turning again to the captain. "In our reality we abandoned digital computing about three quarters through the 21st century in favor of quantum computing. This discovery allowed us to dramatically increase our storage capacity, processing power and data recall speeds over digital media by many factors of magnitude. Instead of storing our data on circuit boards and memory devices, like you, we store our data by imprinting it on a quantum substrate. And, depending on the frequencies we use during the imprinting process, we can imprint multiple forms of data over the same quantum substrate almost ad infinitum. It also means that, by making use of quantum entanglement, this data can be read no matter where you are from any point in the known universe."

"Fascinating," Mr. Data said as he began to see the point.

"Yes, quite so," Fractal agreed. "In effect, what has happened is that, as the barriers between realities have broken down, it has allowed your reality to come into contact with ours, though indirectly. You have not passed into ours and, strictly speaking, we haven't passed in to yours. Strictly speaking, we are still in our own reality and 250 years in the past. But when your sensor sweep broke through to our reality it allowed your sensors to read the game data stored on our quantum substrate. When it did, recognizing it as simulation data, it fed this data to your holodecks; being the most compatible system. And there the data has become quantum locked. Our servers are connected to yours and I can't see any method of disconnecting them, I'm afraid."

A moment of silence passed while the staff considered this new hypothesis, though the other newcomers heads were noticeably spinning.

"Mr. Data, what do you make of this," the captain said.

"A fascinating hypothesis, Captain. And it certainly does explain much."

"Solutions, Mr. Data," Riker asked.

"Under the circumstances we are unable to cut power to our holodeck, sir, owing to the cascading feedback loop in our primary buffer array. Otherwise I would suggest we cut power and perform a reboot of the whole system. But the problem seems to be connected to the quantum locking with their servers on the other side of the rift. As such, I think the best course of action is to wait for the rift to close. When it does the connection will be severed and we will be able to perform a reboot of the system."

"What effect have our modified power consumption rates had on mending the rift?"

"Negligible, sir. I estimate we have managed to increase the rate of the rifts collapse by approximately 6 hours, 17 minutes and 32 seconds."

"_Approximately_, Mr. Data," Obrien said, a cheeky gleam in his eye.

"Yes, chief," Data said, clearly not getting the joke. "Give or take a nanosecond. I am sorry, but I can not refine my calculations any closer than that."

"What does that mean," Rose asked, clearly perplexed.

"It means you'll be fine," Deana reassured her. "The rift will close and you will be able to go home in about 10 days."

"Ten days," Rose cried, aghast. Her companions shared her dread as waves of horror washed over their faces. "We can't wait ten days!"

"This does present a serious problem, Captain," Dr. Crusher said.

"What's the problem, doctor," the captain asked. "They can't leave our holodeck, but surely they can leave their own."

"We're not on a holodeck," Rose said, a rising panic in her voice.

"Captain, their world of Caldera is an interactive neural simulation," Dr. Crusher added. "They don't access it by holodeck, but by direct neural stimulation of the brain. They are quantum locked into the simulation just as we are."

"You mean they can't log out," he said before turning to Rose. "How long have you been locked in the simulation?"

"About 13 hours," Rose said. She had calmed down somewhat under Deana's gentle persuasions. "Captain, please, you need to help us! We should have logged out hours ago."

"We will do everything we can, Miss Rose. Please stay calm. Doctor, what would this wait mean for them?"

"The human body can go for several weeks without food, that's not the problem. The real problem is water. The human body can't go for more than two or three days without water. They should be perfectly sedentary, which will help, but there's also the matter of waste excretion. Their bodies are still processing whatever they last ate back in the real world. If they have no one to attend to them and excrete their waste wherever they lay then it will remain, pressed against the skin, causing bedsores, blisters and eventual infection. If they don't excrete then it will remain in their systems and build up leading to diarrhea and dysentery. This will further dehydration and the risk of infection due to bedsores and skin lesions when they do excrete."

"You said 'if they had no one to attend them'. Would you care to explain?"

"If someone close to them can get them to the hospital then their doctors should be able to stabilize them until the rift closes. I can't say much, due to doctor/patient privilege, but I know that Roth is already under professional care, so he should be fine. But the others are another matter."

"I see," the captain said thoughtfully. "Fractal, is it," he asked, looking to the far end of the table. "Do you have anyone to attend to your body back home?"

"I should be alright, sir," Fractal said with a nod. "I'm a university freshman and I have several classmates due to meet with me to discuss a paper we are to co-author. I'm certain they will find me soon, if they haven't already. And Genie doesn't need to log out. She's actually an artificial intelligence program designed to help me."

"Genie is invincible," Genie crowed at the top of her lungs. Though her impish wail caught the others off guard, the captain remained stoic as he moved to Phoenix.

"And you, Phoenix?"

"Dunno," Phoenix replied with a shrug. "My parents are… _relaxed_ when it comes to me. Let's just say they aren't too involved. Maybe they'll find me, maybe they won't."

"I see," the captain said knowingly, reading between the lines. "And you, Rose?"

"My parents are on vacation," she said, a look of despair across her face. "They're touring Europe on their second honeymoon. They won't be back for another three weeks."

"What about school? Surely someone from school will notice you are missing?"

"We're on break for Christmas, Captain. No one is coming for me."

"I see. Perhaps it would help if I know a little more about your world. The simulation, that is. Let's start with those men in black. Are they a regular part of the simulation?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are they players or non player characters?"

"Oh, they're players like us. They call themselves the Minion."

"So why were they attacking you? And if they are players, like yourself, then why did you invite them into your game?"

"What are you talking about? We didn't invite them. Caldera's an MMO. They're free to come and go as they please."

"An MMO?"

"It's short for MMORPG. Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game."

"And how many people play this game," the captain asked, a new dread building in his mind.

"It's hard to say. Lots of people subscribe to it but as for how many people are actually online right now, I don't know."

"Please try."

She closed her eyes and thought for a moment, biting her lip.

"Well, it's pretty popular. I read that at any given time there are about three hundred million people logged in worldwide."

The staff was aghast at the news and the captain stiffened in his chair. But it was Will who leaned forward to look the girl in the eyes.

"Do you mean to tell us that right now there are more than a _quarter billion _people quantum locked on our holodeck?"

"I'm afraid it's worse than that, Commander," Fractal added gravely. "That's only how many people are logged in at any given moment. Caldera has a worldwide subscriber base of nearly _nine hundred million_."

Every mouth in the room dropped in slack jawed horror as the gravity of the situation was made apparent to them.

"And these people are going to keep logging in," Rose pleaded, the urgency begging in her eyes. "They're going to keep logging in and they won't be able to log out. Before the end of the week you could have almost a billion people starving to death on your holodeck."

A moment of dreadful silence followed as the staff processed what they had heard.

"But how can that be possible," Obrien asked, setting his revulsion aside for the moment. "The holodeck can barely handle 50 people. How can three hundred million people even fit on the holodeck? Let alone a _billion_? We don't have the processing power to handle that much load!"

"That won't be a problem," Barclay answered confidently. "Their servers are doing all the processing. Our holodeck is simply acting as a monitor."

"Sir, this raises serious security issues that must be addressed," Worf added boldly.

"Agreed, Mr. Worf," the captain acknowledged. "If we can't resolve this then we may have a billion desperate souls clamoring on our doorstep. I want round the clock security. Weld the doors shut and place guards at every entrance save one. Leave one door open and that will be our point of ingress into Caldera if we need it. Place a security checkpoint at that entrance and let nothing pass but for my direct authorization. Understood?"

"I don't think we have the manpower for that, Captain."

"Then cancel leave for any of your security who are still on the ship," the captain replied sternly. "Take non essential personnel from other departments if you need to. Put a phaser in every hand large enough to hold one. I want this ship secured, Mr. Worf!"

"Understood, sir!"

"Rose, these _Minion_. What kind of a threat do they pose?"

"It's hard to say, Captain. They're what we call _griefers_. They like to ruin other peoples game by going into PvP servers and pubstomping noobs."

There was no recognition on the captains face. Only a void disconnect showing that he clearly didn't understand. He glanced briefly at Data for clarity, but Data only echoed his expression.

"I have no data, sir," Data said apologetically.

Rose rolled her eyes and sighed, being forced to whip out her old man dictionary.

"It means that they're generally bad guys," she said at last. "They like to pick on people for fun. Normally I would say they are a huge security risk. But today they are just one of us. Lost, scared and desperate to get home."

"Do you know why they attacked you?"

"They're just scared, Captain. Like the rest of us."

"Very well. Mr. Barclay, how long can they stay outside the holodeck before they begin losing cohesion?"

"If we can maintain our current power levels and the connection remains good in the trinary adjunct relay Chief Obrien and I established then… indefinitely, sir."

"Very well. Mr. Worf, please escort these _Minion_ to our brig and hold them there until this issue is resolved. Then bring their leader to my ready room for a meeting. Rose, I would like you there, as well."

"Me, Captain?"

"Yes. Since you are the self professed leader of your party I would like to discuss certain expectations I have with regard to your conduct. We should also establish certain ground rules if you are going to be staying with us for a while."

"Oh, uh… okay. That's fair."

"And as for the rest of you, as of now our current mission is cancelled. Our top priority is closing this rift as soon as we can. Leave is cancelled and any remaining personnel onboard are expected to report to their posts for their regular shifts. Mr. Obrien, when Mr. Laforge comes back on shift I expect you to appraise him of the situation and have him do whatever it takes to close this rift, by any means necessary."

"Understood, sir."

"Mr. Data, I want you to put our new equipment to work in conjunction with Astrometrics. I also want you to contact Alpha Sigma and appraise them of our situation. You are to coordinate together and search for anything that may help us close this rift that much sooner. You are free to commandeer any non essential ship personnel you require toward this end."

"Yes, sir."

Then the captain turned to his guests. When he did his eyes, both stern and stoic, softened and became strangely comforting. His voice, at once commanding and imposing, belied a kindness which put them at ease.

"And none of you worry," he reassured them. "As of now you have the best minds in Starfleet working to get you home. And we are not accustomed to failure."

* * *

Three and four at a time the Minion were escorted, under heavy guard, to holding cells in the ships brig. The last group to be brought was short one member as the commander was separated from them and taken straight away to the Captain Picard's ready room. Rose was already there waiting for him.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," the captain said as they entered. "That will be all."

"Captain, I must object," Worf protested. "This man…"

"_This man_," the captain interrupted, "knows that, should he try anything, an angry Klingon will be on the other side of that door prepared to visit his full wrath upon any transgression. Isn't that right, Mr. …"

"Grimward," the man in black said, stealing an uneasy glance at Worf. "Grimward Allsbane. And yes, sir. I think I understand the situation completely."

"Excellent! You see that, Lieutenant, we _can_ be civil. Dismissed."

Worf turned and left without a word, but not before eviscerating the young Mr. Allsbane with an icy stare that made even Rose's blood run cold in her veins. When Worf had gone, a fact for which Grimward was exceedingly thankful, the captain turned to address his guests.

"Mr. Allsbane, I should like to begin with you…"

"Grim," the young man interrupted. "Since we're being civil, call me Grim."

"Very well, _Grim_, what do you know of the situation so far?"

"I have the gist of it."

"Which is?"

"That somehow we've been transported to another dimension and about 250 years in the future. And Caldera is quantum locked into your computer so that's why we can't log out. I'm not sure of the particulars, but that's what I've picked up."

"Yes, that certainly is the _gist_ of it," the captain agreed. "But you should also know that my crew is working with all speed to get you home and resolve this matter as quickly as possible. As of now, we are your best shot at getting home alive. Is there any doubt in your mind on that point?"

"No, sir. That seems fairly obvious."

"Excellent. Now, I need to devote every possible resource to this task but I can't do that if I need to have my men keep watch over yours. It would greatly expedite matters if I could trust your men to act with a certain level of decorum while here. As such, this is what I'm willing to propose; your men are currently being held in the brig. Their weapons have been confiscated, as have those of the other party, now…"

"Uh, excuse me, Captain," Rose interrupted with raised hand.

"Yes?"

"Were we supposed to turn over _all_ of our weapons? Because I wasn't even asked."

"Are you armed?"

Slowly Rose removed the black and gold obsidian cross from beneath her belt. She held it out to her side and a five foot obsidian staff thrust from the bottom. The sound of its emergence was as a sword being released from its sheath.

"A little bit, yeah," she said sheepishly.

"Very well. Leave it on my desk and I'll have Mr. Worf return it to you when return to Caldera."

Obediently she re-sheathed her staff and set it carefully on the captains desk.

"It's that level of cooperation that has earned her and her team a spot in my good graces," the captain said, pointing to Rose. "As of now they are not under guard and are free to wander the ship as they see fit. There are many amenities on this ship that they may enjoy, aside from the holodecks, and they are free to do so. They have also been issued temporary quarters which, I assure you, are more comfortable than the brig. I am willing to extend the same courtesy to you and your men, but I need certain assurances."

"Such as," Grim asked.

"First and foremost, I need your cooperation. I can't be worrying about where you are and what you're doing. If we are going to resolve this issue then we must be allowed to work uninterrupted and free from distraction. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I think so."

"Good. Second, and this applies to both of you; as of now, the simulation is over. Whatever rivalries you had in the game are officially finished until this issue is resolved. I will not have brawls on my ship. Your ability to roam this ship freely is a privilege, not a right. Now, it is a privilege that I am happy to extend, but if I sense that it is being abused I will not hesitate to throw you all back into the holodeck and have Chief Obrien and Lieutenant Barclay deactivate their trinary relay and trap you there. Then you can brawl to your hearts content while we resolve this situation. Clear?"

"Crystal," Grim replied.

"Of course, Captain," Rose agreed.

"Good. Then, Mr. Allsbane, I will have your people moved to more comfortable quarters immediately. And I will have security issue each of you a comm badge which will help us contact you, if need be. It will also help us track your location so we don't need to worry about you. I expect these badges to be worn at all times. Is that clear?"

"Clear," Grim replied.

"Yes, Captain," Rose replied.

"Good. Then go inform your people and I will make preparations accordingly. If you have concerns feel free to bring them to our attention but I will not always be able to deal with your concerns directly. You may take these up with Counselor Troi when you have them. Dismissed."


	5. Chapter 4: Locking Horns

**Chapter 4: Locking Horns**

* * *

After her meeting with the captain, Rose called the others to the quarters she had been assigned and explained the situation to them. Grim did the same, though he did so from the brig before any quarters had been assigned. Together the two parties gathered in the main security office to receive their comm badges. When all the formalities had been taken care of, everyone decided to go their own way and explore the ship.

After exploring the ships "amenities" Rose and her party agreed to meet back in Ten Forward to compare notes. And so it was that, after a rather invigorating sparring match in one of the ships dojo's, Roth swaggered into Ten Forward. He was a little bit later than he had anticipated, or they had agreed, but he didn't care.

In spite of the skeleton crew, Ten Forward was packed, as Geordi had anticipated. He had tried to keep the replicator outages confined to vacant quarters, but many found themselves without service anyway. As such, after receiving his drink, Roth was noticeably irritated as he scanned the thronging crowd for any sign of his comrades. He eventually found them seated by the window, though Rose was still nowhere to be seen. Phoenix ignored the food before him, being seemingly transfixed by the swirling nebula just outside their window. Fractal, meanwhile, was focused with a fevered intensity on a plate of salad before him. Angrily he stabbed at it with his fork while Genie happily slurped a milkshake that was nearly as tall as herself.

"Why so glum, four eyes," Roth asked, giving Fractal a hearty slap to the shoulder. Already being irritated, Fractal shot Roth an all too uncommon look of ire as he fixed his glasses, which had nearly fallen off his nose in the attack. As if to answer the question, Genie stood before him proud and tall (sort of). Her chest swelled with pride and she cocked her head back in satisfaction before responding.

"Genie has made a friend," she crowed triumphantly.

"You did not make a friend," Fractal shot back, nursing his most recent bruise. "You got us kicked out of Astrometrics!"

"Meh," Genie shrugged. "Six of one, half a dozen of the other."

"I don't think that means what you think it means."

"Meh."

"What are you drinking," Phoenix said, turning to Roth. His arrival had stolen Phoenix's attentions away from the hypnotizing eddies of the nebula. They were now focused on the thick, purple concoction swirling in Roth's glass.

"Prune juice," he responded after taking a sip.

"Prune juice?"

"Yeah. Apparently it's a delicacy here," Roth said with a shrug.

Roth took another sip and the others returned to their routine before they were set upon by a few very unwelcome guests.

"Hey, kids," the Minion said as they approached. "Mind if we join you?"

There were four of them. Their armor and weapons had been confiscated, leaving their red and black undergarments behind. But they still bore that same cocky swagger Roth and the others had come to know in Caldera.

"Yes, we do," Roth said, taking another sip of his prune juice. "Buzz off."

"Oh, come on," one of the Minion said as he pulled up a chair and sat down anyway. The other three followed suit and pulled up chairs of their own. "Don't be like that!"

"We don't want trouble here," Fractal said, studying them out of the corner of his eye.

"Who wants trouble," one of the young men said with a shrug and a grin. "We're just being friendly! We can be friends, can't we?"

* * *

**Fractal and Genie**

* * *

After receiving his comm badge and agreeing on a rendezvous point with the others, Fractal took Genie and set off in search of Astrometrics. He had to ask the computer for directions several times, but eventually he found his way. And along his way he couldn't help but rave to Genie about the wealth of information their computer system was sure to have. One might even say he was gushing, if one thought he was capable of such a thing.

Astrometrics was bustling with activity when they arrived. There was barely a free terminal open. Taking care to keep out of people's way, Fractal asked around and was eventually able to find the shift supervisor on duty. He asked if he could borrow one of their terminals to study some of their library and the supervisor agreed. He pointed him to an out of the way terminal in the corner and gave him clearance to view some low level data. Fractal happily accepted and thumbed through the data like a giddy little school boy, greedily devouring every last megabyte.

Genie, meanwhile, had taken to exploring. She hopped from one console to the other, spying on what work the crew was doing.

"Genie, don't wander far, please," Fractal warned, not taking his eyes off his own console. "Stay out of their way and let them work. And stay off the floor! I don't want you trampled underfoot."

"Roger," Genie said as she happily continued spying on the efforts of the crew.

All the same she continued hopping from console to console until she came to that of a Vulcan woman. She was deep in thought, analyzing a fresh set of sensor data from the nebula when Genie approached.

"Hey," Genie chirped happily, swaying her hips childishly from side to side. "Whatcha doin'?"

The Vulcan woman regarded Genie curiously for a moment out of the corner of her eye before responding.

"I am analyzing the latest set of sensor data."

"Why," Genie asked childishly.

"So I can better understand the radiometric dynamics of this nebula."

"Why?"

"So I can assist in closing the space/time rift which brought you here."

"Why?"

"So I can get you home."

"Why?"

"Genie," Fractal rebuked over his shoulder, though his eyes never left his console. "Decorum, please!"

Genie said nothing in response but continued watching the woman who let out an irritated sigh at the attention.

"I'm Genie," Genie said at last, her hips still swaying childishly. The woman regarded her curiously again and then let out another irritated sigh before responding.

"T'nara," she said plainly.

"T'nara? That's a pretty name, for a Space Elf."

T'nara bore her a shocked glance while her co-workers coughed into their hands in a desperate attempt to hide their snickers from her.

"I am _not_ a _Space Elf_," T'nara shot back. There was an irritated bite to her tone that she did not intend. "I am a Vulcan!"

"You're a Vulcan?"

"Correct."

"Not a Space Elf?"

"Certainly not."

"Oh," Genie uttered, lines of thought strewn about her face. "So, do you live longer than regular humans?"

"Yes. The average Vulacn lifespan is 200 solar years."

"So, are you stronger than normal humans?"

"Yes, quite so."

"Are you more agile than normal humans?"

"Yes."

"Are you smarter than normal humans?"

"If you count intelligence as the speed at which our brains process data," T'nara said, attempting to preserve her sense of humility. "Then yes."

"I see," Genie responded thoughtfully. "Are you wiser than humans?"

"That's difficult to say," T'nara said, again attempting to preserve her humility in front of her shipmates. "We definitely have certain codified standards of conduct that one might call 'enlightened'. So, yes."

"Do you eat meat?"

"No. We no longer consume the flesh of animals for sustenance."

"Do you have pointy ears?"

"Yes," T'nara said cautiously, wondering where this line of questioning was going. "Obviously."

"Do you have pointy eyebrows?"

"Obviously."

"So, you're a race of long lived, physically and mentally superior and enlightened beings with an advanced intellect, pointy ears and curved eyebrows? Is that an accurate assessment?"

"Yes," T'nara said cautiously as her crewmates suppressed their chuckles behind her.

"I see. Do you live in space?"

"I live on _Vulcan_," T'nara corrected her, a renewed bite to her voice.

"Is Vulcan in space?"

T'nara said nothing, but only regarded Genie with an all too uncommon glower in her eye.

"So, yeah… Space Elves!"

T'nara's glower continued as her crewmates broke form and burst into uncontrolled laughter behind her. As she listened to the din behind her, T'nara, much in spite of herself, felt her eye twitch.

* * *

**Roth**

* * *

After Roth had received his comm badge from security he, too, took the opportunity to wander the ship. He was feeling a bit pent up and restless after the meeting so he queried the computer where the nearest gym was. It directed him to Deck 12 where fitness facilities could be found on port and starboard sides of the ship.

Roth found his way fairly uneventfully, after getting turbolift directions from the computer and soon found himself roaming the corridors of deck 12. On his way to the port side fitness facilities Roth passed one of the holodecks. The door had been welded shut, as per the captains order, and two surly security guards stood watch. The pair eyed Roth suspiciously as he passed. Roth said nothing but only smiled and offered a hearty salute.

The gym was mostly barren, as one might expect under the circumstances. He found some weights and other fitness equipment in the main gymnasium. He put them to good use and managed to work up a good sweat because of it. He spent a little time shooting hoops to limber up afterward but soon found himself wandering for want of more to do. After a time of prodding he found himself distracted by a sound, an odd shuffling of feet, from one of the side rooms.

He poked his head in to what appeared to be a dojo of some sort and spied none other than Mr. Worf in full training gi. He was running through a series of poses not unlike Tai Chi. But, though similar to Tai Chi, it was clearly not. The movements were faster, more abrupt. And as Worf moved through the poses his hands, rather than displaying the liquid flowing race of Tai Chi, took the form of claws and talons. As they cut through the air the gestures he made reminded Roth of the motions one might repeat if he was attempting to rip an enemies throat. Gently, so as not to startle one making such lethal maneuvers, Roth rapped on the doorframe.

If Worf was startled he never showed it. Instead he simply straightened and turned to face the newcomer in his presence directly.

"What do you want," he asked, just as directly.

"This place is dead," Roth answered. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone else."

"With the holodecks down," Worf said, sinking his teeth into the words. "I have been forced to find alternative ways to relieve my stress."

The two stood and regarded each other for a moment. As the time passed an expression of curiosity deepened on Worf's face.

"Aren't you going to apologize," he asked.

Roth shrugged.

"Seems silly to me. We didn't do anything. Neither did you. It was a mistake. They happen."

"I wish more Humans understood that," Worf said, nodding knowingly. "You people have some insufferable need to apologize for absolutely _everything._"

Roth regarded Worf for a moment, a cheeky gleam in his eye.

"Sorry," Roth said, a wry smile on his face. After a moment Worf smiled back, finally catching the joke. "So, what are you doing," Roth asked as he entered the room. "Martial arts? It looks like some kind of Klingon Tai Chi."

"Mok'bara is not _Klingon Tai Chi,_" Worf replied sternly. "Tai Chi is _Human Mok'bara_!"

"Oh, really? Well, your little dance was pretty and all but it's best saved for the prom if you can't back it up, Princess. Care to spar?"

Worf smiled as he took a wide stance, preparing for the first attack.

"Would you like to change into a training gi," Worf asked, a look of focused intensity set upon his face.

"No, thanks," Roth said, circling the perimeter of the room. "I don't fight in my _jammies._"

The first attack came suddenly. So much so that it nearly caught Roth off guard. He managed to block most of the attacks and dodge the ones he didn't, though not with ease. There was something savage about the attacks. They were brutal and animalistic, as he had observed. But not mindlessly so. There was a deep logic behind his movements which was belied by their savagery. It was almost by accident that Roth managed to hit him, cutting sharply into his ribs which were surprisingly solid. Worf staggered back at the blow. Not in a daze but rather in shock.

"You hit me," Worf exclaimed, more surprised than anything else.

"Did I hurt you," Roth asked.

"Hurt me," Worf replied, a grin widening on his face. "There are only a handful of people on this ship who can touch me, let alone hurt me. Let's make this a little more interesting."

Straightening up, Worf went to a rack on the wall of the room and removed a pair of quarterstaffs. He tossed one to Roth who accepted it eagerly. As Worf set into a defensive pose, flourishing his staff as he did, he held it in a most peculiar way. It was hard for Roth to put his finger on, but it almost appeared to meld with him. It was as though the staff had become one with his arm and its every movement echoed his.

As before, the first attack came suddenly. Though this time it was Roth's turn to draw first blood. He charged into battle, twirling his staff as a dervish before him. If Worf was having any trouble dodging Roth's attacks it never showed on his face. His movements had changed as well. Gone were the angry charges and throat ripping gestures of their hand to hand combat. His movements now were much more calculated and direct. As a skilled warrior himself, Roth knew what Worf was doing. He was watching, waiting for a weakness. Any chink in his armor, any gap in his defenses that could be exploited to devastating effect. And before long he found it.

After one attack, an overhead strike that surely would have been ravaging had it landed, Roth left his flank open to attack. He realized his mistake almost as he made it but by then it was too late. Worf punished him with a low sweep which set him flat on his back. As he lay there, gasping for breath, Worf stood over him. A wry smile was stretched from ear to ear.

"Did I hurt you," he mocked from above.

Roth would have laughed if he had the breath for it. But all the same he returned to his feet as soon as he had recovered. This time it was Worfs turn to attack first. He thrust himself into battle, letting slip a bloody roar as he did.

And so it went between them. Offense and defense. Attack and block. Thrust and parry. Worf won some. Roth won others. The tally was nearly a draw by the time they finished, but they weren't counting. It was the thrill of combat, the revelry of sport which drove them. Not petty scorekeeping. They left together for a drink at Ten Forward, but not before a quick stop in sickbay to tend to their many and sundry wounds. They continued on afterwards but not before a severe, and rightly deserved, tongue lashing from the doctor.

She had expected such things from Worf and had made many accommodations to him owing to his Klingon physiology and temperament. Indeed, she had tended to him after some of his more perilous jaunts into the holodeck. But never had he drawn another of the ships crew into his "crazy pain games," as the doctor sometimes called them.

"Honestly, why do you _men _need to hurt each other to have fun," she said, ending her tirade. "Boxing, mixed martial arts… and now _mok'bara_! Why don't you just skip a step, take him to your quarters and whack him with a _pain stick_!"

So they did. And after that brief bonding exercise, they finally made for Ten Forward which was far more crowded than normal. Worf led the way without a word as they approached the bar.

"Hello, Worf," Guinnen said as the pair took their seats. "The usual?"

"Two," Worf said, very directly.

It wasn't but a minute before Guinnen returned with two glasses of a thick purple liquid.

"Drink," Worf said, sliding one in front of Roth.

Roth took a sip. It wasn't bad, but it was surprising. He hadn't expected such a fine warrior to be drinking…

"Prune juice?"

Worf said nothing at first. Waves of contentment washed over his face as he took his first sip.

"There's nothing better," he said at last.

The two never talked as they sat and sipped their prune juice. That suited Roth just fine. They said everything they needed to in the dojo. They never used words, save for the odd taunt, but they said more.

But after a while, as the hour grew late, Roth remembered his comrades and his promise to meet them. He rose from his stool, giving Worf a friendly slap on the shoulder.

"I should go find my friends," he said.

"Hmm," Worf replied.

They said nothing further as they parted. Worf continued sipping contentedly on his prune juice while Roth pushed into the throng in search of his comrades.

* * *

**Phoenix**

* * *

After receiving their comm badges from security, Phoenix followed Rose back to her quarters. Or at least he tried. He had a tendency to cling to her whenever he was scared. Or nervous. Or unsure. Or whenever anything new happened at all, actually. It was a habit she was trying to break him of. But all the same she once again caught him tripping over her shadow as she made off to her rendezvous.

"Phoenix, what are you doing," she asked.

He shrugged.

"I dunno," he answered. "Tagging along? What else am I going to do? Watch TV in my room?"

"Well, first of all, I don't know if you noticed, but I didn't see any TV's around here. I don't think they use them. But more than that Phoenix, we're on a starship. _In the future!_ Are you really telling me you want to spend your time in your room watching 300 year old reruns of 'I Love Lucy'?"

"You know, I'm pretty sure they've come up with something new since then."

"Not the point, Phoenix."

"Yeah, well… okay, fine. Then what do _you_ think I should do?"

"Not a clue. That's up to you. Go out. Mingle. Talk to people. You never know who you'll meet until you meet them."

Somehow she had a knack for combining all of his least favorite words into one breath. "Go out." "Mingle." "Talk to people." And so, with that extremely unhelpful advice, she was off and he was left to his own devices. Standing alone in that vacant corridor, he couldn't think of anything that he really wanted to do or see. But he was a little hungry. He asked the computer where he could get something to eat and it directed him to Ten Forward.

"Where's that?"

"Ten Forward is located on Deck 10, Section 1 of the enterprise."

It took some doing but, after learning how to operate the turbolifts, he arrived in short order. Ten Forward was fairly deserted at the time, the dinner rush having not yet started. He must have looked fairly lost because one of the servers, a tall black woman in a purple gown, came to assist him.

"Can I help you," she asked.

"Uh, yeah. I'm meeting my friends here. And I need food."

"We have food," she said with a smile. She welcomed him with one hand while gesturing to the bar with the other. "Come this way."

Phoenix followed and took a seat at the bar.

"So, what do you want?"

"I don't know. What's on the menu?"

"We don't have one."

"You don't have a menu? Then how do people know what they want?"

"Sometimes they already know. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes they just wander in here without a clue of what brought them. Sometimes they expect me to know what they want. So, which one are you?"

"I don't know," he said, startled by the riddle. "I guess, since I don't know what you have, maybe you should choose."

The woman smiled knowingly before dipping into the kitchen for a moment. She emerged a short time later with a plate of… food? He had no idea what was on the plate she set before him except that it was _green_.

"It's not a plate of Klingon boogers, or anything, is it?"

"No, that's our breakfast special."

She said it so matter of factly he couldn't tell whether it was a jest or not.

"It's a joke, kid," she said, noting the confused yet horrified look on his face. "It's called Rakshivah. It's a Ferengi delicacy."

He took a small bite, against his better judgment, and it wasn't actually bad. The texture was like a combination of soft and crunchy things. Like chewing a mouthful of mushrooms and bean sprouts. The taste wasn't bad, either. It started sour, like sauerkraut, but finished honey sweet.

"You like it?"

"Hmph," he mumbled, strands of the Rakshivah hanging from his mouth.

"Good," she said with a smile. "I'm Guinnen."

"Phoenix," he said after a hard swallow.

She was strange, looking at her more closely now. She seemed old but not aged, if that makes any sense. Her eyes were not dull with time yet looked as though they had seen two hundred thousand sunsets. Her face did not bear the lines and wrinkles of misspent youth, only wisdom.

"So, Phoenix, what do you think of the _glorious future_?"

"I dunno," he said with a shrug. "It's a lot like the stinky past, I guess. But you have better toys. Except TV's. You don't have those, for some reason."

"TV's? Oh, yeah. I remember those. They always seemed kind of pointless to me."

"You remember," he said, slurping up another strand of Rakshivah. "How could you remember? That would have been like, 250 years ago."

"I visited Earth a few times in my youth."

"_In your youth?_ How old are you?"

He should have known better and he realized his mistake as soon as he made it. And the stink eye she gave him drove the point home loud and clear.

"Sorry," he said. "I guess even after 250 years some things never change."

"That's okay," she said, accepting his apology with a smile. "So, how do you know the others?"

"You mean Rose and the others? Well, as far as the Minion, I don't know any of them personally. Don't want to, either. I've known Roth and Fractal for a couple months now. They're alright, I guess. I've known Rose the longest. She's my cousin."

"Oh, so you and her must get on pretty good if you spend so much time playing that game of yours together."

"I don't know. It's weird."

"How is it weird, Phoenix," Guinnen said, a growing concern in her voice.

"Well, she drags me on these little adventures of hers and then she tries to push me off. Tells me to go away, and stuff."

"What exactly does she tell you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Don't stand so close. Go do your own thing. Go. Mingle. Talk to people."

"Really," Guinnen said as a knowing smile crept across her face.

"Yeah. 'You never know who you'll meet until you meet them.' Boy, I hate that one."

"She's more clever than I thought."

That last comment stopped Phoenix mid chew. Guinnen couldn't help but chuckle as strands of the Rakshivah dangled loosely from his lips. Even more so at the confused look strewn about his face.

"She's not pushing you away, Phoenix. She's trying to push you _out._"

"There's a difference?"

"A big difference! It's the difference between being rejected by a lover and a baby bird being pushed out of the nest so it can fly."

"Okay, well… first of all _eew!_ Please don't compare me and my cousin to lovers again. And second, you're saying she's trying to help me by pushing me away?"

"Not_ away_. Out. And yes. That's how we grow. Nobody ever grows by staying where it's safe. Growth comes from challenging yourself. From biting off more than you can chew and then _chewing it. _I bet she sees more in you than you even know is there. But I bet that's even just the tip of the iceberg."

Their conversation grew silent in the moments that followed while Phoenix digested what he had heard. But, though the conversation had grown silent, the room had filled with a rising, muffled clamor as the crew began pouring in for their dinner.

"I think that's my queue," Guinnen said, backing away from the bar. "The dinner rush is about to start. You're going to be meeting your friends, aren't you? You should grab a table for them before the good ones have gone. Try one by the window. It will give you a fantastic view of the nebula."

He honored her suggestion and made for one of the few vacant booths near the window. On his way he bumped into one of the Minion. Grim, his name was? He seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere. He passed out the door as most people were thronging in and they gave him a wide berth when he did. But all the same Phoenix took his seat at the booth just as the others had filled up. There his eyes gradually drifted from his plate of Rakshivah to the swirling currents of nebula outside his window. And there his mind grew transfixed by them even as his plate cooled before him.

* * *

**Grim**

* * *

His Minion underlings greedily snatched the communicator badges from his hand when he presented them. They had some difficulty attaching them, there being no pin to discern, but he showed them as the security personnel had instructed him. After all was finished they began making plans for how they were going to spend their time, few of which actually involved Grim.

"Alright, boys, let's tear this ship up," one young man cried to the rancorous applause of the other dozen men.

"No, you will not _tear anything up_," Grim rebuked sternly. "Didn't you hear the captains warning? This is _his_ ship and he will not hesitate to throw us _all_ back into the brig if any one of us steps out of line. So all of you are going to behave yourselves…"

"Or what," another young man challenged. "Or that big, Klingon ape will get angry? Bring it! I can take him any day of the week."

"Can you take an entire security detachment, you thick headed moron," Grim asked, stepping defiantly nose to nose with the raucous young man. "Because that's what will happen if you step out of line. Any of you. And security took us down once so make no mistake they can do it again. But this time we are on _their turf_."

"We just want to have a little fun, Cap'n," the young man said, now penitent.

"I know you do. Just don't have so much fun that you get us all arrested."

And with that last dire warning firmly in mind, they set off. Grim knew not where, for he wasn't invited. A few, 3 or 4, made word of heading to Ten Forward for a drink later. But beyond that he knew nothing.

Left to himself, Grim wandered the ship for a bit. The corridors of the ship were mostly vacant, but they seemed even more so. It didn't help that every crew member he passed glared at him and gave him a wide berth, as though he was bearing some terrible plague. Not that he could blame them, of course, given the first frenzied impression his people had made.

He wasn't quite sure how or what drew him there, but several random turbolifts later he found himself wandering into Ten Forward. It was mostly vacant but for a few games of Terrace being played at scattered tables throughout the room.

Grim took a seat at the bar, about halfway, and got the attention of one of the servers. He asked the young man for a bourbon and what he came up with certainly _looked_ like bourbon. It certainly _smelled_ like bourbon. But when Grim tasted it, it was off somehow. It was hard to explain, but it lacked the same body he was used to. Grim asked the young man about it and he called it "synthahol." He asked the server if he had anything a little more _real_ but he declined. He wasn't sure if the young man was being genuine or if he was just under orders not to serve any of the good stuff to the newcomers. But either way he made due and sipped on what he had.

After a while, and another "drink" later, the place started to heat up. People started pouring in for the dinner rush, including a few familiar faces. The 4 young men who had spoken of meeting in Ten Forward earlier breezed through the door. He thought they might sit and have a drink with him, but they didn't. Instead they passed him and sat off to his left.

He knew why, of course. No one said it, but he could read it in the glances they stole at him when they thought he wasn't looking. They blamed him for the loss of better than a dozen of their comrades, and he knew it. But he could hardly blame them for deep down he did the same. He was the one who gave the order to run through the arch, after all. Without that order 13 men would still be alive. Should he have run through first? It would have been greedy, but then they would have seen him disintegrate and not followed suit. Then his death could have been lamented, instead of his life.

He thought about it at the time; breaking form and saving tail. After all, they could hardly fault him for wanting to save his own ass. But instead he chose to do the good commander thing and put the lives of his men first. It's funny how things work out, sometimes.

But, after a time of enduring their stares and awkward sidelong glances, he had enough. He never finished his drink but left it on the counter. On his way out he bumped into that Phoenix kid, nearly causing him to spill a plate of weird green stuff. The masses thronging the door parted and allowed him passage, for the plague bearer they presumed him to be. Desperate now for solace, he retired to his quarters.

When he arrived in his quarters he flopped down on the nearest chair that would take him. He ran his hand through his thick, black hair and sighed deeply. The low rumble of the ships engine was soothing, but soothing is the last thing he wanted right now. He wanted music. Something loud and unhealthy, full of testosterone and adrenaline.

"Computer, do you have any metal?"

The computer processed for a moment before responding.

"The U.S.S. Enterprise D is a Galax class starship," the computer droned. "It's hull is composed of duranium, titanium, tritanium, magnesite, neutronium, monatonium…"

"Nevermind," Grim said laughing. "Nevermind. The bloody future, man. It's a dark day when they don't even know what metal is."

"Please rephrase request," the computer droned.

"I wasn't talking to you!"

* * *

**Rose**

* * *

After her brief scolding of Phoenix, Rose made for her "rendezvous." She had none to speak of, in all honesty. She simply wanted to make herself sound busier than she was, for Phoenix's sake. But there was someone she was hoping to speak with, all the same, as long as she didn't need an appointment. And a short turbolift ride later she was standing at her door.

From within Deana heard the door chime. It surprised her, but she was glad for the distraction. Her meetings for the day were done and she had spent the last hour pouring over her notes in preparation for the next days appointments. Her vision was beginning to blur from nearly an hour of staring at a datapad and she was glad for a holiday from it.

"Come in," she said, setting her datapad down. Rose walked in and Deana greeted her with a warming smile. "Hello, Rose. What can I do for you?"

"Hi, Counselor. I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me earlier today. I'm not normally that weak."

"Please, call me Deana," she said, taking Rose by the hand. "And think nothing of, dear. I can only imagine what you've been through in the last 15 hours. It's more than most people could bear so your reaction to it was quite normal."

"Thanks, C-, uh, Deana. But there was something else I wanted to talk about, as well. Do you have time?"

"Of course! But first I need a pick me up."

"Excuse me?"

"I've been staring at reports for the last hour and my head is fuzzy. This is a job for ice cream!" With that Deana released Rose's hand and made for her replicator. "Would you like some? You're free to join me."

"I thought the replicators were down."

"Not all of them. Besides, Geordi knows better than to get between me and my ice cream," she said playfully. "I'm having chocolate. What flavor would you like?"

Rose thought for a moment and then her face lit up and she smiled like a school girl.

"Can I have cheesecake? Cheesecake, please. Cheesecake!"

Deana couldn't help but chuckle at the girls enthusiasm as she turned her attention to the replicator.

"Computer, one bowl of chocolate ice cream and one bowl of cheesecake ice cream."

Obediently the replicator complied and Deana brought both bowls to her therapy area, which was two sofas facing each other in her living area. Rose was already ahead of her and bounded excitedly on the edge of the sofa.

"I think I like therapy in the future," she said as she accepted the bowl from Deana. "Thank you. I think I might have needed this, too. There's far too much blood in my cheesecake stream."

"You know, we also have some intensive programs for addiction, if you're interested," Deana jested as she slid onto the couch across from Rose. Rose, meanwhile had taken her first large bite. As she did, slowly rolling it in her mouth, she closed her eyes and sighed in deep contentment.

"If this is wrong I don't want to be right. Do you know what the best part of our game is," she said, opening her eyes and pointing her spoon at Deana. "You can eat all the cheesecake you want and _never get fat_!"

"Ooh, sounds like heaven. Do they have ice cream, too?"

"Of course. You haven't lived until you've tried Kuni Crunch. But, seriously, what place doesn't have ice cream?"

"I don't think they have it on Qo'nos. That's where Worf is from."

"Really? No wonder he seems so grumpy. I'd be grumpy too if I came from a planet without ice cream."

"So, Rose," Deana said after a brief chuckle. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Well, it's just… There are times when I don't know if I'm going to make it through this."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone else has someone to take care of them back home. Fractal has his classmates. Roth has his… _people_. Aunt Maggie and Uncle Jeremy are sure to find Phoenix sometime and Genie doesn't need to log out. They could stay in the simulation for a full 10 days if they need to. But I don't have anyone," she said, playing with her ice cream. "My classmates are all off on Christmas break and my parents are off touring Europe. I mean, honestly, who does that this close to Christmas, anyway? Right? And if you guys can't help me get home then…"

"Okay, honey, I'm going to stop you right there," Deana said, setting her ice cream on the coffee table. She leaned forward and stared intently into Rose's eyes as she spoke. "Do you know where you are?"

"On a space ship," Rose answered tentatively.

"No. You aren't. You are on board the U.S.S Enterprise. This isn't just a _space ship_. This is the flagship of the United Federation of Planets. The most accomplished minds of a hundred worlds dream of being here. This crew is the best of the best, sweetie. Captain Picard wasn't joking when he said that you have the best minds in Starfleet working to get you home. And not just here, but Alpha Sigma, too. Trust me. If anyone can get you home, we can."

"Yeah, I guess," Rose said, still stirring her ice cream which was fast becoming cheesecake soup. "But I just feel so, I don't know… _naked_ sometimes."

"What do you mean," Deana said, leaning back.

Rose bit her lip and looked up, thinking hard before responding.

"Well, it's like, back in Caldera. I had all these super wicked powers. I could do anything. Like this one time, we were being ganked by the Minion, right," she said with renewed enthusiasm in her voice. "Our backs were against the wall and we were getting totally zerged from every side. So I called down a thick, blinding mist to cover the battlefield. Then I peppered the hillside with land mines in the shape of rosebuds, because roses are kind of _my thing_. Every time a Minion would step on one he would get wrapped up in these thick, thorny tendrils that would drag him beneath the earth. A little fire and brimstone later and we totally pwned those noobs!"

"I see," Deana said. She did her best to understand in spite of what, to her, was nearly incomprehensible slang. But all the same, the renewed light in the girls eyes gave her something to work with. "So how did you come by this power?"

"I'm a Kahna."

"Kahna?"

"Yeah. It's hard to explain. It's kind of like a priestly class."

"So your power comes from magic? In the game, I mean."

"So to speak," Rose said after a moment of thought. "We don't like to call it magic, but that's close enough."

"So is that what Caldera is, then? Power?"

"Yeah, I think so. I think that's right. Life's tough, you know? It's nice having an escape."

"That's an interesting choice of words. What is it you think you need to escape from? What do you do when you're not playing the game?"

"Not much, I guess. I'm just a cheerleader at my high school."

"_Just a cheerleader,_" Deana exclaimed. "Just a cheerleader? I don't think 'just' and 'cheerleader' should be in the same sentence! Do you?"

"Yeah, but… you don't understand."

"Then help me to understand."

"Well, it's like… some of the girls are there for the sport, you know? Some are there for boys. Some are there to be popular. And I suppose I am, a little bit. How could you not be popular on the cheer squad? But I'm mostly there for my Mom."

"Your Mom?"

"She was a cheerleader, too. So was her mom. And her mom. Going all the way back to my great great grandmother. It's kind of our thing. Five generations of Bennet girls have all been cheerleaders. I can't be the one to buck tradition. Not after five generations."

"That sounds like a lot of pressure."

"_So much pressure!_ Working out every day, morning drills with Mom and the diet… ugh! You can't have sweets because _fatties don't make the team_. All to protect 'The Legacy'."

Deana smiled. Suddenly her addiction to cheesecake made a little more sense.

"So you turn to Caldera because you have power there?"

"Exactly! Everything I do there is of my own design. Nobody elses."

"And now you feel that power has been stripped of you?"

Rose said nothing, growing again quite sullen. She lowered her head and played with her cheesecake soup.

"Listen, Rose, I think the first thing you need to realize is that this 'control' you talk about… it's just an illusion. Strictly speaking, it doesn't exist."

"So what, then? You're saying I can't play the game anymore?"

"Not at all. There's nothing wrong with having an escape. Even one that gives you an illusion of control. As long as you recognize that it's _an illusion._ Nothing more. I think the problem is that you've spent so much time in a hyper stylized version of control that you don't know what to do with the real thing when you find it. Real control isn't about control isn't about calling fire and brimstone down on your enemies. Real control is about affecting those things that you reasonably can and letting the ones you can't go."

They were silent for a good long while as Rose contemplated what she had heard. She continued playing with her soup, picking out the occasional chunk of cheesecake as she did. Though her quiet contemplations were interrupted by the sound of Guinnen on the intercom.

"Guinnen to Rose and Grim, come in please."

There was a racket in the background beyond what one should expect of the dinner rush. A strange shuffling and the sound of raised voices could be heard.

"I'm here, Guinnen," Rose said, setting her bowl on the coffee table.

"Yeah, I'm here, too," Grim said. He sounded as if he had been roused from a fitful slumber. "What is it?"

"I need both of you to come to Ten Forward immediately. Someone's about to get hurt down here. I'll meet you by the port entrance."

"Alright, I'm on my way," Rose said.

"Me, too," Grim acknowledged. "See you in a bit."

"Sorry, Deana, but I should go," Rose said and Deana showed her the door. "But thanks for your help. You really gave me something to think about today."

"It was my pleasure," Deana replied with a knowing smile. "Now you go take control."

* * *

**Locking Horns**

* * *

Rose and Grim met at the turbolift an took it together to deck 10.

"Do you know what this is about," Rose asked.

"You now as much as I do."

They arrived at Ten Forward shortly thereafter. Guinnen was waiting for them by the port side entrance as they approached.

"What's going on," Grim said as they approached.

"You need to hurry," Guinnen said. "I'm afraid they might come to blows. I've convinced Worf not to call security until you get here, but I can't hold him off much longer. Come with me."

She led them inside and all of Ten Forward was focused on a scuffle happening in their midst. At a table by the window Roth stood defiantly chest to chest with one of his Minion counterparts, who had 3 of his fellows goading from behind. Phoenix, Fractal and Genie cowered nervously by their window while the rest of the crew gawked awkwardly. Worf was there also, still in full training gi. As the trio entered Ten Forward he had stepped between the two men who were becoming increasingly agitated.

"What's going on here," Rose demanded as she came near.

"Exactly," one of the young men barked back with Worf's hand still upon his chest. "We're just having a friendly conversation. So will someone please tell this big Klingon ape…"

"You shut the hell up," Grim demanded, as all of Ten Forward collectively gasped. They expected that Worf should lay the young man flat on his back for such an insult, but he remained stoic all the same. "What do you people think you're doing? I told you. Didn't I tell you? Didn't I repeat for you the captains warning? It was my promise of good behavior that got you sorry lot out of the brig. I put my reputation on the line for you people. I gave the captain my word. And this is how you repay me? Mr. Worf, Guinnen," Grim said, turning to the pair who stood only feet away. "I'm terribly sorry for all of this. I don't know what my word is worth at this point but, for whatever it's worth, you have my word that this will never happen again. And as for the rest of you," he said, turning back to the four young men before him. "Get to your quarters. You're done here."

"What," the ringleader exclaimed. "You can't be serious. I'm not just some kid you can send to my room. I'm not going."

"Fine," Grim said, pointing to Worf. "Deal with him, then."

Worf said nothing but stepped forward, letting slip a deep guttural growl as he did. The young man, actually looking at Worf for the first time, finally realized he was more than just some "Klingon ape." At last he put up his ands and took a step back, surrendering.

"Okay. Alright, fine. We're going."

"Good. And I don't want to see any of you in the halls until I smooth things over with the captain."

As the quartet walked by, heads bent hangdogedly low, Roth puffed his chest with pride as they paraded past.

"You too, Roth," Rose said, arms crossed and foot stomping.

"What?"

"You too. Off you go."

"You can't be serious."

"You were as much a part of this as they were, Roth."

"But they…"

"But _you,_" she said, cutting him off. "They may have started it, _but you_ could have finished it. I don't know what they said. I don't know what they did. I don't know how they taunted you. But you could have let it slide. Gone to the captain later. But you chose to make a scene of it. So, yes, you can go to your quarters, too. And I don't want to see _you_ in the halls until I've had a chance to straighten this out with the captain, either."

Roth would have argued, but he knew better. She could be stubborn when her mind was made on something. But with a 250 pound Klingon backing her up there was no hope. So, silently, Roth hung his head and smiled as he pushed past them.

"See you later, big fella," he said, giving Worf a hearty slap on the shoulder.

Within moments he was gone and an eerie silence enveloped Ten Forward. Though it was short lived for, only moments later, the captains voice echoed over the comm.

"Picard to Rose and Grim. Come in."

Rose felt her heart drop into her stomach. She had hoped that she would be able to speak to him before news had reached him. But apparently word travels fast on this ship.

"Rose here, Captain," she responded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Grim here," he said. If he was bothered you could never tell from his tone.

"Report to my ready room immediately," the captain ordered. "We have matters to discuss."


	6. Chapter 5: Working Together

**Chapter 5: Working Together**

Rose and Grim reported to the captains ready room as ordered. They now stood before the captain who appeared to be ignoring them completely. He seemed transfixed by the reports on his desktop terminal. He clicked through each one at a time, paying no heed to his guests as he did. Finally, after an uncomfortably long and drawn out silence, he switched off his terminal and regarded them at last. His face was stern and cold as he took his time to look each of them in the eye.

"I recall that I gave both of you a choice," he said at last. "You could stay under guard in quarters, or the brig, as you prefer. Or you could act with etiquette and roam the ship as you please. You gave me your word that decorum would be observed and I gave you liberty to wander the ship at your leisure. Was I in error?"

Another uncomfortable silence enveloped them and Rose averted her eyes as the captains silent glower cut into her. She said nothing at first, swallowing a fresh lump of trepidation catching in her throat.

"My apologies, sir," Grim said at last. "We take full responsibility for the people under our command, as I'm sure you can appreciate. I have already confined those of my people who are at fault to their quarters and Rose has done the same for hers."

"That's right, Captain," Rose said. "We sent them to quarters immediately until we could talk to you. We're all very grateful for what you're doing for us and I promise this _will not_ happen again."

"Indeed," the captain said, his gaze softening somewhat. "Mr. Allsbane, Guinnen reports that it was your men who initiated this altercation. Can you confirm?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't," Grim responded. "I wasn't there. But the four in question are a raucous bunch on the best of days, so it's possible."

"I see. In that case I expect you to inform these young men that they are confined to quarters for the remainder of their stay on this ship. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir. Absolutely!"

"Miss Rose, Roth is not the instigator but he is no less at fault. As such I expect him to remain in quarters until this time tomorrow. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Rose replied, nodding. "I'll make sure he complies."

"See that you do," the captain said sternly. "I will tolerate no more disruption on board my ship. If you can not act like civilized people I will not hesitate to confine each and every last one of you to the brig."

Captain Picard shifted in his chair as an uncomfortable stillness set upon the room.

"Now, with that bit of business out of the way, we may have found a way to get you home."

The mood in the room lightened somewhat and both Rose and Grim leaned in closer with interest.

"It's too soon to tell for certain, but Mr. Data may have discovered a method of using anti-chronotons to neutralize the radiation in the area. If we can neutralize the radiation we may be able to close the rift in a matter of hours, instead of days. I have a meeting with my department heads to discuss the matter in 20 minutes. You are both free to attend, if you wish."

"Yes, Captain, I would like that," Rose replied.

"I'll be there," Grim said.

"Good. Go inform your people and see that they behave. Dismissed."

* * *

Rose arrived early for the meeting. She came by the turbolift entrance, not having clearance to as casually use the bridge entrance as the officers. Grim was actually late for the meeting. He had something of a rough time explaining to his insubordinate subordinates that, from time to time, consequences have actions. And that their actions had set them in permanent time out. But explain he did and arrive he did, though nearly 7 minutes late. But it hardly mattered for, on this rare occasion, the captain himself was running late. He marched through the door and took his seat at about the 8 minute mark.

"Let's begin," he said, very matter of factly. "Mr. Data, report."

"Yes sir," Data said, rising from his seat. He proceeded to the view screen at the head of the room and called up some charts and radiometric graphs of the nebula. Rose and Grim were surely baffled but the bridge officers studied the visuals with interest.

"I have been working in conjunction with the science facilities on Alpha Sigma via subspace," Data began. "We have agreed that the key to closing the rift lies in the anomalous radiation. And so this is where we have focused the bulk of our study. Upon further examination we have determined that, while the radiation has an erosive effect on the fabric of space/time, the radiation itself is not the primary culprit. At least with regard to the temporal effect. Rather the radiation is merely a carrier."

"A carrier for what, Data," Riker asked.

"Chronotons, sir. As well as other quantum particles, but the focus of our study was the chronotons. These chronotons are being captured by the waveform profile of the radiation. As they do, they take on behavioral characteristics of the radiation itself. Namely an erosive effect on the fabric of time, in addition to space."

"Uh, excuse me, Mr. Data," Rose said raising her hand. "I'm afraid this stuff is all a little over my head."

"Mine, too," Grim agreed.

"So, do you think you could take a moment and, I don't know, pretend like you're talking to someone from _250 years in the past_?"

"Certainly," Data replied. "It is difficult to satisfactorily explain to someone lacking in our more advanced scientific knowledge but, in simplest possible terms, chronotons are the stuff time is made of. Radiation, as you may be aware, is a wave. The chronotons are being picked up by the wave and carried along with it."

"Look at it this way," Commander Riker said, noting the vacant looks on their guests faces. "It's like a surfer on the ocean. The surfer is the chronoton, bobbing up and down on an ocean of radiation. The radiation is like the wave which comes along behind the surfer. As it passes underneath him it picks him up and carries him along to the shore. When it does the surfer takes on characteristics of the wave, such as speed and trajectory and so on. Is that a little more clear?"

"Yes," Rose said, biting her lip. "I'll say yes."

Riker smiled out of the corner of his mouth before turning back to Data who continued his presentation.

"Coordinating with Alpha Sigma," Data carried on. "I believe it may be possible to temporarily cleanse the chronotons from the radiometric waves with a flush of anti-chronotons. This will halt the erosion of time in the region immediately around the enterprise. Then we may be able to close the temporal rift and sever the temporal connection between Caldera and our holodecks."

"Will the Enterprise be able to leave the nebula, Mr. Data," Picard asked.

"No, sir. The anti-chronoton flush will allow us to mend the temporal rift, but the spatial distortion holding us here will remain. Closing the spatial rift any faster will require the removal of the radiation itself. The only method we have yet observed for removing the radiation is a sustained tetryon burst. And I dare not attempt that again lest we make our situation worse."

"I see. What plans have you and Admiral Hacket formulated to close the temporal rift?"

On the view screen Data called up a 3d map of the nebula and the Enterprise's position within it. It was hard to imagine but, their mission being interrupted so early on, they were still barely on the outskirts. Data zoomed in and the Enterprise took center with nearly a dozen other ships holding station in a sphere encircling them.

"Admiral Hacket has explained our situation to the ships docked at Alpha Sigma," Data said. "He has managed to rally support from ten ships who are not on other urgent business. They will each take station fifteen thousand kilometers out from us in a sphere. We will then initiate an anti-chronoton pulse. When they register the pulse they will respond with pulses of their own. According to our calculations, a reverberating field of anti-chronoton pulses in the range of 2.763 petahertz should be enough to scrub the radiation field clean of all chronotons. Afterward, with the chronotons being neutralized, the anti-chronotons should bind naturally to the radiation field. When they do the temporal rift should mend itself within minutes."

"Data, what are the odds that the other ships in the fleet will be trapped as we are," Riker asked.

"Extremely high, sir. They are taking a great risk with this maneuver. But they know what is at stake and we have very few alternatives."

"How long until the ships arrive, Mr. Data," Picard asked.

"The fleet is already en route, sir. They will arrive in approximately six hours, seventeen minutes."

"Mr. Laforge, what work do you need to do to prepare?"

"We have a lot to do, Captain, and not a lot of time to do it," Geordi said. He clasped his hands on the table in front of him while speaking. "Starships weren't designed to emit chronotons or anti-chronotons. Starfleet vessels aren't designed for time travel, after all. It's been done, but only at great risk to ships and personnel. We'll need to re-build the primary emitter array on the deflector dish. And it won't be pretty, Captain. In order to get the work done by the time the fleet gets here we'll need to cut away pieces of the secondary hull just to get at the equipment in the time we need. We'll basically need to gut her from the inside out.

"And it will also require the fabrication of a variable chronoton pulse field generator, Captain. We can use elements of the main deflector array to speed the process, but that one component will need to be fabricated almost entirely by hand. And it's absolutely crucial. The work will be exacting, Captain. It will take Reg and Obrien nearly as long to manufacture as for us to access and re-purpose the deflector array."

"I see," the captain said, nodding knowingly. "Then don't waste time here. Commandeer whatever personnel you need toward this end and make it so! This is top priority, Mr. Laforge."

"Yes, sir," Geordi said. He left the room with Barclay and Obrien in tow.

"Mr. Data, are the other ships aware of the material requirements of this mission?"

"Yes, sir," Data responded. "Similar work is underway as we speak."

"I see. Is there anything else you would like to add, Mr. Data?"

"Yes. After the rift is closed and the temporal connection is severed, it will be necessary to power down the entire holodeck network and reboot the entire system. I would then suggest that the system remain offline for the duration of our stay in the nebula, lest we become entangled with the Caldera simulation again."

Worf, hearing the news, rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. In spite of himself, he let slip an irritated, guttural growl as he did.

"Agreed," Captain Picard said with a smile. "My apologies, Mr. Worf, but it seems that for the next few weeks you may need to find other ways to injure yourself for fun."

"At least the doctor will be pleased," Riker joked, earning an icy scowl from Worf. But he knew Worf too well to be intimidated by it. Instead the daggered glare made him laugh all the more. Besides, for all he knew that's how Klingons smiled.

"Miss Rose, Mr. Allsbane, it would appear your worries may be over," the Captain said, smiling as waves of relief washed over both of their faces. "You should go to your people and inform them that, if all goes well, you could all be home in about 7 hours. This meeting is dismissed."

As the bridge officers all departed through the bridge entrance Rose and Grim hung back and made their way through the turbolift entrance.

"So, how are you doing," Grim asked in the turbolift, a cheeky gleam in his eye. "You understood everything okay? Need me to explain anything to you?"

Rose never thought she would find herself smiling at a member of the _Minion_. But, much in spite of herself, she was anyway.

"Yeah, I think I understood all that about as well as you, smart guy."

"Well, we certainly were an integral part of that meeting, weren't we?"

"Oh, absolutely," Rose jested back. "We were positively essential! Who else was going to help with all that exposition?"

* * *

The posh accoutrements of the quarters he had been assigned were lost on the young man as he paced angrily to and fro. His face reddened and his teeth gnashed furiously as he took clumps of his own hair in his hand and wrenched them painfully. It made him feel better. Strange, but yes. It's an odd thing, this masochism. That one pain should lessen another is something that not even he understood. He only knew that it was.

He was already fuming when Grim had come to see him after his meeting with the captain. To say he did not take his confinement well might be an understatement. In the end Grim had to call in security just to calm him down. It was a pity Worf was busy or else Grim would have called him directly. An icy glower from the Klingon shut the kid up before. But, as it was, the two phaser wielding men who joined them mere minutes later did an admirable job of calming him down, all the same.

And so it was, left to his own rage, the young man frothed and cursed in Grim's absence. He raged and spat, indifferent to whomever may hear on the other side of these walls or passing in the corridor. He was startled out of his wrathful rantings by Deana's voice over the comm.

"Deana to Coren. Coren? Come in, please."

"What!?" he spat angrily.

She had seldom come across someone in such a blind rage on this ship. In fact she could count the number of times on one hand. And with fingers to spare, no less. But she held her composure and remained calm, all the same.

"Security says you are quite agitated right now. They are getting complaints from your neighbors and people passing in the corridor. I was wondering if you might like to talk before this becomes a problem?"

"No, I don't want to talk, you stupid bitch!"

"Mr. Olward, I'm only trying to help," Deana said after a moment of stunned silence. "Coren, if you don't calm down then security will have no choice but to escort you…"

She was cut off mid sentence as Coren ripped the badge from his lapel and cast it angrily against the wall. Blind with rage, he fumbled his way to the bed and sat heavily upon its edge. There he rocked frantically back and forth, cradling his head in his hands. And as he rocked he started coming down from his frothing dither and his rocking subsided into a quaking which racked his whole body. And then, in the midst of his trembling, he heard it.

They were small at first. Voices. Like whispers on the edge of hearing. For a time he could have ignored them. Dismissed them as the sound of the blood pulsing through his ears when he was "red," as his parents sometimes called it. He could have written it off, but that they grew. They called to him, though not in any tongue he could understand. They were incoherent, disjointed murmurs from the dark recesses of the room. Frantic now, he staggered to the middle of the room to escape but to no avail. They followed, swarmed about him now and he flailed against them in vain.

And then they stopped. It was as though he was at the center of a great storm, the eye of the hurricane. Thousands of voices, a whirlwind of rambling whispers suddenly silent. All of them… save one.

_"Coren."_

It was close. Directly behind him. Hot breath on his ear. He spun to see but nobody was there.

_"Coren."_

"Who are you," he demanded frantically."

_"Coren."_

"What do you want from me!?"

_"Behind you."_

Coren turned slowly, fearful of what he might see. But nothing. Naught but empty space and the door beyond it.

The chiming of the door caught him by surprise. He jumped with a start at it and just as much when it chimed a second time.

"Coren Olward, this is security. Open the door."

_"Coren."_

"Who are you," Coren demanded again, his voice a shrill shriek.

"This is security," the voice on the other side of the door repeated. "Open immediately!"

_"Coren."_

"What do you want from me?"

_"Coren."_

Coren heard no more from security. Only a low shuffle as they moved into position on the other side of the door.

_"The panel!"_

He didn't know why he reacted. Only that he did. He picked up a chair from the kitchen area and swung it into the panel beside the door. With far more force than he knew he was able, in fact. The panel shattered exposing the door circuitry behind. The security on the other side of the door quickened their pace at the noise.

_"Water."_

Instinctively, he picked up a vase of flowers and cast them on the ground, trampling their petals underfoot. He took the water and dumped the entire vase onto the exposed circuitry. Sparks and flame erupted from within as the room filled with a thick, grey smoke. With the door now jammed, security set to work prying it open.

"Who are you?"

_"We are Legion."_

"What do you want from me?"

_"We are forsaken."_

"Leave me alone!"

_"Coren, we will make your path straight."_

Coren crumpled to the ground and again cradled his head as the voices once more swirled around it.

_"Coren."_

For reasons that were beyond him, Coren felt an uncontrollable urge to raise his head and look at the door. He could see security prying their way through. They had already opened a 3 inch gap in the door.

_"They are going to kill you."_

* * *

Captain Picard marched into sickbay shortly thereafter. Worf and another member of security was with him also as was the counselor. Grim was already present in sickbay. He watched as Alyssa treated second degree phaser burns on Coren's chest. Another was with him also, a young man who couldn't have been more than 15. The captain rebuked Grim with a harsh glower before standing before Dr. Crusher.

"Doctor, report," he said sternly.

"Minor injuries, Captain," she replied, closing her tricorder. "Private Wilhelm suffered minor lacerations to his face while Lieutenant Jenkins suffered a broken collarbone. Mr. Olward suffered second degree phaser burns to his chest and upper torso. Alyssa is treating him now. We have him under heavy sedation."

"What happened here," the captain said, addressing security.

"We received a call of a disturbance from Mr. Olward's quarters, sir," Jenkins began. "When we arrived we could hear muffled cursing from inside. Hoping to resolve the situation peacefully, we called Counselor Troi to talk him down."

"I see. Counselor, what was your interpretation of Mr. Olward when you spoke to him?"

"He was extremely agitated, sir," Deana began. "There was no reasoning with him and it was not long before he became extremely abusive."

"Abusive?"

"Yes, Captain. After talks broke down, I instructed the Lieutenant to make entry and subdue Mr. Olward, for his own sake, Captain. I was afraid that he might hurt himself."

"Report, Lieutenant."

"After Deana gave us the green light we attempted to perform a soft by pass from the panel but the occupant jammed the door from the inside. We're not sure how he figured out how, but he managed to expose the door control circuitry and short it out from the inside. We proceeded to a manual bypass of the door and found the occupant huddled in a ball in the middle of the room. And then he attacked."

"He was on us in an instant, sir," Wilhelm added. "He pinned me to the ground and began clawing my face. For a second it looked as though he wanted to bite me, but the Lieutenant pulled him off. And he just wouldn't go down."

"How so," the captain queried.

"After I pulled the occupant off Pvt. Wilhelm, we both drew our phasers and fired. It looked as though he barely felt it, sir. We increased the phasers power settings to medium and fired again. It took multiple concentrated shots, but eventually he went down."

"Doctor, could this be a side effect of their holographic bodies? This immunity to phaser fire?"

"I don't believe so, Captain," she replied. "Though more simplistic, their bodies seem to function more or less as ours do. A proper stun setting should have leveled Mr. Olward on the first shot. But it's not uncommon for people on drugs or high on adrenaline or epinephrine to exhibit seemingly superhuman capabilities."

"Have you completed a blood work analysis, Doctor?"

"Not yet. Nurse Ogawa is treating his burns and then she will proceed with the analysis."

"Are these men fit for duty?"

"Their injuries were superficial, Captain. I've treated them and they can return to work immediately."

"Very well. Return to your posts," the captain ordered and the men complied, leaving sickbay immediately. "Doctor, can you give me any medical reason for this attack?"

"I'm sorry, Captain, I can't. To all appearances their synthetic bodies appear healthy. I'm afraid I am at a loss."

"Counselor, did you sense anything while talking to him?"

"No, sir. I haven't been able to sense anything from them for as long as they have been here. The sensations I get from them are the same as any other holodeck character. I can see them, I can hear them but nothing else. It's like they are all form and no substance."

"I see. I think it's time for some answers."

Angrily the captain marched to where Grim and the lad stood watching as Alyssa finished treating the last of the burns on Coren's chest. Grim saw the captain approaching and even he had to swallow a heavy lump of trepidation catching in his throat.

"Mr. Allsbane, this is the second time in one day I have been required to speak with you regarding the conduct of your people," the captain said sternly as he approached. "I am not pleased!"

"I know, Captain, and I can understand that," he said, offering up his hands in penitence. "But there's a young man here that I think you want to speak with."

"Very well," Picard said, an irritated bite to his voce. "What's your name, son?"

"Sefrone, sir," the lad said sheepishly. "Sefrone Olward."

"Olward?"

"Yes, sir. Coren is my brother."

"I see. Can you shed some light on what happened here?"

"He's sick, sir."

"Sick? How so?"

"I'm not sure what they called it, but it's a mental disorder. I think they called it _schitzofreakia_, or something."

"Paranoid Schizophrenia," the doctor queried.

"Yeah, that's the one."

"That certainly does explain a few things, Captain," she added.

"Sefrone, Is he normally dangerous," the captain asked.

"Not when he's on his meds. But he goes through phases. Like he feels fine and doesn't think he needs his meds. He hasn't taken them for a few days before we logged in."

"Has he been violent in the past?"

"He wasn't before he started taking his medication. Just weird. But since then he's fine as long as he takes it, but he can be violent when he's not."

"Sefrone, can you tell me what medication he was on," the doctor asked, gently cupping his elbow in her free hand. "It would greatly help me to treat him if you knew."

"Sorry, I don't," Sefrone said with a shrug. "Mom and Dad handled that stuff."

"That's alright, son," Picard said, laying a hand on the lads shoulder. "Why don't you go back to quarters. I need to have a word with Grim."

Obediently Safrone left. When he did the captain turned back to Grim, a stern rebuke brewing behind his eyes.

"Did you know about this," he said at last.

"About the Schizophrenia? No."

"I don't believe that for an instant! I have been in Starfleet for nearly forty years. And in that time I have yet to meet a single Starfleet officer who did not have intimate knowledge of the people under his command. Their wives names. What school their children attend. What they do on leave. Let alone whether one of their subordinates is a borderline psychotic who is off his meds! Perhaps you could explain this to me, Mr. Allsbane," the captain said, stepping closer. "How is it that a military commander could not know that he was entrusting his life, and the lives of his men, to a paranoid schizophrenic?"

Grim averted his gaze under Picard's glower, taking time to consider his answer.

"I'm not a military commander," Grim said at last.

"What?"

"I'm not a military commander. I'm a janitor. And he's not a soldier," he said gesturing to Coren. "Caldera… it's a game, Captain. We meet. We go on raids. We harass noobs. We're not military. I didn't even know most of these men until a few days ago when the Minion high command put them under me. And I didn't much care about knowing them since our mission was a raid deep in the Free Lands. After that we were likely to be split up again. There was no way I could have known, Captain, and it wasn't even reasonable for me to ask."

Picard lowered his head and sighed, realizing that perhaps he had held Grim to too high a standard.

"Doctor, what can you tell me about Mr. Olward's condition," the captain said, changing the topic. "How likely is he to reoffend?"

"That's difficult to say, Captain," she replied. "But, with cases of paranoid schizophrenia, a history of past violence is a strong indicator. So it's possible. I'm also highly concerned that he hasn't taken his medications in days."

"Explain."

"Late 20th and early 21st century psycho pharmacology was little more than a witches brew, by today's standards. I would hesitate to even call it science, let alone _medicine_. These drugs severely altered the bio-chemical state of the users brain in an attempt to hammer it back into working order. As such, a sudden and uncontrolled withdrawal from the medication, such as what Mr. Olward has experienced, can cause symptoms which can be as bad as the disease they are intended to treat. This effect can also be compounded when medications, _so called_, aren't taken properly or regularly, such as Safrone indicated. This can even further throw off a patients brain chemistry leading to the kind of outbursts we observed today.

"So the short answer, Captain, is yes. I do believe he is at a high risk of violent relapse and offense."

"Very well. I will have him confined to the brig, under guard, until further notice."

"I'm sorry, but that's not advisable."

"Why not?"

"I'm afraid he might hurt himself if left unrestrained, Captain. I would suggest keeping him here. I can keep him sedated until you are ready to send them back."

"As you wish, Doctor. And as for you, Mr. Allsbane, I realize that I may have been unfairly harsh with you before. I should not have expected that you would have the same level of discipline as that of a 40 year Starfleet veteran. But, that being said, my patience for this shenaniganery is nearing its end. I am willing to cut you some slack, owing to Mr. Olward's previously unknown mental condition. But I expect perfect compliance from your men from this point onward. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Captain," Grim replied. "Very well understood. And thank you."

"Keep your men in line, Mr. Allsbane," the captain said as he turned and made for the door. "The fleet arrives in six hours and I will not tolerate anything that compromises the successful accomplishment of this mission."


	7. Chapter 6: Whispers in the Dark

**Chapter 6: Whispers in the Dark**

* * *

When the fleet had arrived the crew had very nearly completed their work. Barclay and Obrien were put somewhat behind after having discovered some impurities in the devices reaction chamber. It would have taken longer to expunge the impurities than to rebuild the chamber, so they did. But it hardly mattered anyway for, as the fleet arrived, it took them nearly two hours to get into position.

As the fleet entered the nebula one obvious problem became immediately apparent. Namely how were they to navigate the ships into position without getting bogged down by the spatial distortions in the area. The problem was driven home early on as three ships, the U.S.S. Lexington, Odyssey and Copernicus found themselves immediately bound in the quantum quagmire. In the end it was the science officer on the U.S.S. Endeavor whose out-of-the-box solution saved the day.

He suggested that, though warp engines and thrusters may be inoperable, normal laws of inertia still seemed to apply. Therefore the ships on the outskirts, making use of their tractor beams, would launch large nearby asteroids into the area. Then the other ships in the formation would power down their engines and latch on to these projectiles with their own tractor beams and allow themselves to be towed into place. When they were a few thousand kilometers out they were to disengage their tractor beams. Friction with the gasses and dust in the nebula would then allow the ships to drift gracefully to a stop in their predetermined location.

A risky plan, to be certain, but with Data re-checking their calculations from the Enterprise the captains decided to proceed. The first to execute the risky maneuver were the Lexington, Odyssey and Copernicus. After they had drifted into place the U.S.S. Bozeman and Tolstoy followed and the rest of the fleet thereafter. The last to arrive was the Endeavor. With no asteroid to tow them into place, the Endeavor took a running start and entered the quantum sinkhole at speed. Their calculations weren't perfect for they were nearly half a kilometer off the mark, but they were close enough.

"Laforge, report," the captain ordered over the intercom.

"We're almost there, Captain," Geordi replied. "Obrien is installing the pulse field generator now. We'll be ready to proceed in 15 minutes."

"Copy, Laforge. Number One?"

"The fleet reports ready, sir," Riker said. "We can proceed at your command."

"Excellent. Picard to Rose and Grim. Respond."

"Rose here, Captain."

"Grim here."

"Are you prepared to disembark?"

"Yes, sir," Grim responded. "We're picking up our gear from security now. We'll be in the holodeck in about five minutes."

"Oh, and Captain," Rose said. "In case I don't get to talk to any of you again, thanks for all you've done. We really appreciate it. And we're sorry for any trouble we've caused, isn't that right, Roth?"

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered. "Hey big fella," Roth said over the comm. "Keep practicing those dance moves while I'm away. Maybe some day you'll be the belle of the ball!"

Worf never took his eyes off his console. But, even so, a wry smile crept at the corners of his mouth.

"Indeed," the captain said with a smile. "It was our pleasure, Miss Rose. And it was no trouble. But when you get back be sure to tell your scientists to get to work on their warp technology. You're a bit behind and there's a whole galaxy of possibility awaiting you."

"Yes, sir," she said, offering a hearty salute, though he would never see it over the comm.

"Captain, what about Coren," Grim asked.

"I'll have security deliver him shortly."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Doctor, report on Mr. Olwards condition."

A brief moment followed with silence over the comm.

"Dr. Crusher, report. Doctor?"

Another moment passed with Picard and Riker exchanging concerned glances before a shrill, panicked voice called over the comm.

"Medical to security! Security emergency in sickbay. Somebody, please respond!"

"Nurse Ogawa? What's wrong? Where's Beverly?"

"There's been a breech in sickbay," Alyssa responded. "The patient has escaped and Dr. Crusher is down."

* * *

_"Coren."_

Slowly Coren's eyes fluttered open and he looked around, though he was far from lucid. It was as though something was pulling him from the brink of slumber. Something was willing him awake, much in spite of the heavy blanket of sedatives he was under. He looked around, though the world hardly made sense when he did. It was a bizarre mosaic of muffled sounds, disjointed images and whitewashed shades of gray.

_"Coren."_

Each time the voice called to him it pulled him that much farther back into lucidity. It had been doing so for the last six hours. Patiently, unwavering and steadily urging him back to his senses. But now, with time short, there was an urgency as yet unknown in the voice. And it was this urgency which called to him more than anything else and begged him back into the world.

_"The hypo!"_

He hardly knew what a hypo was, let alone how to use it. But all the same the fog of his mind cleared, if only just, and he reached for a tray of implements at his side. He was clumsy, uncoordinated but he managed to lay hold of the hypo anyway and brought it to his side.

_"Blue."_

He looked to the tray of medical devices at his side and saw a container with multicolored vials of liquid in them. He reached for them, his sleepy fingers laying hold of the only blue vial he could find. It was difficult, the world being a wash of gray, but somehow he found it. Instinct laid hold of him then and ejected the cartridge in the hypo and replaced it with the blue one. He didn't know how he knew to do this, but instinctively he brought the hypo to his neck and pressed button. His mind cleared immediately after receiving his dose of stimulant. His first impulse was to rise and bolt, but the voice halted him and bade him stay.

_"No. Bide your time. We will make your way straight."_

Patiently Coren honored the voices in his head and laid still. He watched the doctor and Nurse Ogawa as they went about their business from the corner of his eye. The doctor had her back to him. She was hunched over a microscope examining some biological samples while Alyssa was taking inventory.

"Alyssa, I think I'm ready for those cultures now," she said at last. "Do you think you could get them from the lab for me?"

"Of course."

_"Patience."_

Coren watched and waited as Alyssa left toward the lab at the back of sickbay.

_"Move,"_ the voice said when she had gone.

As quickly and quietly as he was able, Coren rose from the bio-bed and crept toward the doctor. Along the way he found a detronal scanner sitting among another table of surgical implements and cradled it firmly in his hand.

_"Faster!"_

He quickened his pace as the voice had instructed and the doctor heard him when he did. She turned toward the noise, but it was too late. By the time she saw him she could do nothing but watch in horror as he brought the scanner down on her head. She stumbled back in a daze and he pursued her, forcing her to the ground. A few more blows and she went limp, her blood pooling and seeping into her hair. He stood and regarded her for a moment, waves of regret and concern beginning to overtake him.

"Doctor," Alyssa called from the lab. "Beverly? Are you okay?"

_"She will recover. Go!"_

Setting his revulsion aside, Coren let the bloody scanner fall to the ground and dashed into the hallway. He knew not where to go yet somehow felt quite heavily drawn to his left. And so he went, honoring his instincts, until he came to a panel mounted in the wall. He began prying the panel from the wall when a loud siren echoed through the halls and the accent lighting at the top and bottom of the walls turned a bright yellow. From down the hall the sound of boots hurriedly advancing down the hall toward him could be heard.

_"Hurry!"_

He pried the panel loose and slipped inside the Jefferies Tube. He replaced the panel and felt it click in place just as Worf's security team passed him by. Safely inside the tube, Coren went up one level and over two junctions. There, sprawled on the floor, an open toolbox sat with its contents strewn about in a form of organized chaos. Someone had been working here and recently. The worker had probably vacated when the yellow alert was sounded. As though some hidden purpose lay behind his movements, Coren grabbed a datapad, plus a few other odds and ends, and began making his way down the nearest Jefferies Tube.

He emerged, winded and tired, some time later at deck 36. He popped the cover of the tube he was using and stuck his head out for one tentative look. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he stepped out and walked a few paces to the door, taking a moment to read the sign beside it; "Weapons Room," it read.

Without a word he approached the voice recognition panel near the door and began cutting it off with a laser cutter he had grabbed from the abandoned workstation earlier. It wasn't long before the computer sensed his intrusion and sounded an alarm. But, working fast, he soon had the panel off and ripped out a few of the wires therein. Then, allowing the laser cutter to fall to the ground, he took the wires he had pulled and began hardwiring them into the datapad he had stolen. When his work was done he began expertly navigating his way through the Lcars menu until he reached a programming sub directory. With a skill that amazed even himself he bean entering his own code, in spite of the alarm which still sounded noisily around him.

He had the door open in short order and wasted no time rushing through it. It was almost as if he knew the entire layout of the armory. Within seconds he had grabbed a handheld phaser, a couple pockets of stun grenades and a few spare communicators from the shelves. He made for the door but stopped short as he heard several pairs of boots dashing angrily his way.

_"Do not fear,"_ the voice said, sensing his rising panic. _"We have made your way straight."_

* * *

"There's been a breech in sickbay," Alyssa cried desperately. "The patient has escaped and Dr. Crusher is down."

"Lieutenant," Picard said looking to Worf. That was all the motivation the Klingon needed as he turned and hurried toward the turbolift.

"Worf to security," he said as he entered the turbolift. "Intruder alert in sickbay. All available personnel converge on sickbay!"

A short turbolift ride later he was on deck 12 and on his way to sickbay. He met several of his security team on the way and the rest just outside of sickbay. He marched through the sickbay doors with better than half a dozen armed men at his side. On the floor Nurse Ogawa was giving aid to the gravely wounded Dr. Crusher. She had stopped the bleeding and, after checking for neck and spine trauma, rolled the doctor into a recovery position.

"Quick, help me get her onto a bio bed," she said as the security team entered.

"What happened here," Worf said as he braced the doctors head.

Several members of the security team, being larger and stronger, relieved Alyssa as they carefully lifted the doctor onto the bed.

"I left to get some samples from the lab," Alyssa explained. She took her medical tricorder and began taking some more detailed scans of the doctors injuries. "I heard a noise and when I came out Beverly was unconscious and the prisoner was gone."

To their backs none were aware as the young Wesley Crusher rushed in urgently. He had one of his teachers in tow behind him. He paused briefly as he stepped in the pool of blood at his feet.

"Mom," he said, an expression of horror on his face as he watched Alyssa work on his mother. "Mom!"

"He shouldn't be here," Alyssa called out as she continued to work on Beverly. One of the security detachment stepped in front of Wesley, placing firm hands on his chest. His teacher put her arms around him as they stepped back into the hall.

"Come on, son," the security officer said. "You don't need to see this."

"Mr. Worf, I could use some assistance," Alyssa said. Worf nodded to two of his security personnel and they began assisting her.

"Worf to Picard," the Lieutenant said over the comm.

"Report, Mr. Worf," the captain replied.

"The prisoner has escaped, Captain, and Dr. Crusher is seriously injured."

"How did he escape?"

"Unknown. I recommend going to yellow alert, Captain."

There was no reply over the comm, but seconds later the ships lighting turned bright yellow and an alert sounded over the ships speakers.

"Captain, can you locate Mr. Olward by internal sensors?"

"Not yet, Mr. Worf. He's not wearing his communicator. Stand by… Internal scans reveal a humanoid figure descending on deck 30. He may be using the Jefferies Tubes to navigate the ship. Use caution, Mr. Worf!"

"Understood."

Without a further word Worf nodded to the rest of his security team, those that were not assisting Nurse Ogawa, and they left for the nearest turbolift.

"Worf, do you copy," Commander Riker said over the comm.

"Worf here."

"We just registered an alarm at the armory."

"Copy that. I'm on my way."

A short turbolift ride later and Worf and his team converged on the armory. The door was widely ajar and the voice identification panel beside it had been removed. A datapad still hung from cables ripped from within. Worf ordered his team to set up a perimeter and stepped inside the armory. He took a quick inventory and helped his team sweep the room before tapping on his communicator.

"Worf to Picard."

"Report, Mr. Worf."

"Mr. Olward is gone, sir. After gaining access to the armory he stole a handheld phaser and several stun grenades."

"He gained access to the armory? How did he gain access to the armory?"

"It would appear he performed a hard bypass on the door mechanism. I will need to perform a more detailed analysis."

"Did he take anything else?"

"Unknown, sir. We will need to take a more complete inventory to be certain."

"Very well. Leave two of your men to do an inventory and track him down, Mr. Worf. Sensors show him on deck 42."

"What could he want on deck 42, Captain? There should be no high value targets there."

"Unknown. But he's psychotic, Mr. Worf. For all we know he wants to blow out the bottom of my ship. Apprehend him quickly. And use extreme caution."

"Understood."

The hatch Coren had used to gain entry to the armory was still open. Worf left two of his security in the armory and the rest followed him through the tubes to deck 42. They stopped at the deck 41 junction, just above deck 42, and Worf peered down cautiously. In the space beyond he saw nothing but another Jefferies Tube junction and workspace.

Worf was the first one down, after he was satisfied the room was clear. The rest of the team followed suit and secured the fore, aft, port and starboard Jefferies Tube access points.

"Worf to bridge, do you have a reading on Mr. Olwards location?"

"Worf, according to our sensors you're standing right on top of him," Commander Riker said.

Worf looked around anxiously, his senses on high alert. He checked every corner, every panel, every nook that might hide someone of Mr. Olwards size but nothing. His Klingon blood was beginning to boil when he heard something. It was a small thing. A barely noticeable ubiquitous crunch and then the world became a wash of white.

He was the first to awake several minutes later. His head was still spinning from some unknown attack and the rest of his security team lay beside him, unconscious. In the distance he heard what sounded like the captain and Commander Riker pleading with him for information over the comm. Gathering his senses, Worf pushed himself to his knees and crawled to the sound of the crunch he had heard before. When he found it he held it in his hands and regarded it closely.

"Worf… to bridge," he said, still clearing his head.

"Mr. Worf! What happened," the captain answered.

"Some kind of… improvised explosive device… sir. Composed of… a communicator and… a stun grenade."

"An I.E.D.? Are you and your men injured?"

"Negative, Captain," Worf said, pulling himself to his feet. "Only stunned."

"Can you see any trace of Mr. Olward? He's disappeared from sensors."

One by one Worf began making rounds to his still unconscious team before responding.

"Negative, Captain. I don't think he was ever here."

* * *

When Coren heard the footsteps rushing down the hall toward him, he quickly ducked inside the open Jefferies Tube. He quickly ducked up one level and into the workspace there as the voice had instructed. Then he used the control panel in the workspace to open all Jefferies Tube hatches down to deck 42. When he had opened the shaft straight to the bottom he took one of the comm badges he had pilfered and set to work on it. When he was done he tore off a strip of his clothing and fastened one of the stun grenades to it before dropping it down the shaft and shutting the hatch behind it.

After a few moments he heard Worf and his team descend down the shaft. The voice bade him wait and he did. When the coast was clear, at the voice's counsel, he opened his hatch and descended back into deck 36. He did not tarry there but continued on, through the Jefferies Tubes, to main deflector control. He followed the pleading of his own personal poltergeist until it led him to a panel just behind the main console in deflector control. There he saw Obrien and Barclay putting the finishing touches on the pulse field emitter. They were making the last of their connections and the emitter would be operational within minutes.

As carefully as he was able, Coren opened the panel and set it aside softly. Obrien and Barclay caught unawares as Coren silently entered the room behind them.

"F-f-freeze! Freeze! Freeze," Coren shouted madly.

Barclay and Obrien both jumped with a start at the command. Barclay's mouth dropped open and he froze at the sight of the phaser pointed at his chest. He tried to say something to reassure the lad but it only came out as something of a stuttering gibberish. Obrien had more luck, having stared down the barrel of a phaser before.

"Alright, son, now let's just stay calm," Obrien said raising his hands. "Nobody needs to get hurt, here."

"I don't want to hurt anyone, hurt anyone," Coren replied.

"Good! That's good. Now why don't you just hand the phaser over to me and we can take you back to the doctor."

Coren averted his gaze and his eyes welled up at the mention of the doctor. Obrien took the opportunity to take one tentative step forward.

"Back, back, back," Coren shouted, panicked. "You stay back, back!"

"Alright, son," Obrien said, taking a step back. "Alright, son. Why don't you just tell us what you want."

"What thing, son? There are a lot of things in here."

"The thing. The thing, I need _the thing!_"

"Alright, you need the thing. Maybe if you point to it we can help you."

Impatiently Coren pointed the pulse field emitter, stabbing at it violently with his finger.

"That thing! I need that thing, that thing."

"Alright, son. Just let us disconnect it for you."

"No tricks! No tricks!"

"No tricks. You can watch us. No tricks."

Slowly, so as not to startle the lad, Obrien and Barclay disconnected the device. When their work was done they set the emitter on the floor about halfway between themselves and Coren. Coren never took his eyes off them as he leaned in to pick it up. It wasn't overly heavy, but it was oddly shaped and awkward to carry. But he managed, all the same, and backed his way toward the Jefferies Tube.

However he stopped just shy of the opening and eyed them both curiously.

"You'll tell on me," he said, mistrust evident in his voice.

"No, son, we won't say a word," Obrien said and Barclay nodded his agreement.

"You'll follow me!"

"No we won't. We'll stay right here, I promise."

"Liar," Coren cried as he raised his phaser to fire.

_"Coren, No!"_

Quite suddenly it was as though he knew where he was. The void disconnect in his eyes was replaced an abrupt understanding of his surroundings. He lowered his phaser but still kept the pair in sight as he backed out through the Jefferies Tube entrance. Afterward he proceeded upward, zigzagging all the way, until he reached a point just outside holodeck 3. He loosened the panel and stepped into the corridor, after making sure it was clear.

The corridor was vacant and still. The yellow alert had cleared most of the already sparse skeleton crew from the corridors. Coren was able to follow the hall freely as it gently curved left before him.

_"Coren, ready!"_

Instinctively Coren stopped and pressed himself against the wall. Nothing was there. At least nothing that he could see or hear. But he honored the voice, all the same.

_"Aim!"_

Without a thought Coren raised the phaser, preparing to fire.

_"Fire!"_

Obediently, Coren fired. He knew not at what, but he fired anyway. Just as he did a phaser clad security officer rounded the bend before him. He was caught entirely unawares as he walked right into Coren's phaser blast.

_"Down!"_

Coren obeyed and a second officer, the partner of the first, burst forward with phaser in hand. Coren fired and the officer barely had time to respond before he, too, fell limp to the ground beside his comrade. Immediately Coren jumped to his feet and took off in a mad sprint down the hallway. After a short ways he felt a strong urge to ready one of his stun grenades, so he did.

_"Bank it, Coren."_

With uncommon speed and strength Coren threw it hard against the wall which curved out of sight before him. It hit the wall and bounded out of sight before disappearing around the bend. It exploded in a flash of blue light accompanied by the cries of the guards as they crumpled to the ground. Coren rounded the bend and found the guards where they lay and the holodeck entrance completely unguarded. He rushed through without a thought and vanished into the thick wood beyond.

* * *

After the assault Captain Picard ordered an immediate conference in the observation lounge. In attendance were Commander Riker, Worf, Laforge, Data, Barclay and Nurse Ogawa for the injured Dr. Crusher. Rose and Grim were also present, as was Deana who requested to be present. All were assembled when the captain entered and took his seat. His normally calm demeanor was noticeably less so, lines of frustration etched upon his face.

"Nurse Ogawa, report on Dr. Crusher's condition," he began.

"I've stopped the bleeding and repaired the major damage, Captain," she replied. "She's resting comfortably, for the moment."

"And the rest of the security team?"

"No serious injuries. I have treated the security team for low level phaser trauma and they are fit to return to duty."

"I see. Mr. Worf, how did Mr. Olward gain access to the armory?"

"Sir, he gained access to the circuitry behind the voice control panel with a laser cutter," Worf began. "He performed a hard bypass with a data pad we believe he obtained from a workstation not far from the armory. Then he supplemented his attack by writing _his own code_ to open the door from a programming sub directory within the pad."

"He wrote his own code," Commander Riker asked, leaning in. "How is that possible?"

"Unknown, sir."

"Indeed," the Captain uttered, stealing a disapproving glance at Grim. "How did he evade sensors, Mr. Worf?"

Immediately he brought forward the communicator they found on deck 42. It was cracked down the middle where someone had stepped on it and scorched where the grenade had gone off.

"Our inventory check has determined that two communicators were taken, in addition to the phaser and stun grenades. This communicator was programmed to emit a false bio signature. It was then connected to a stun grenade and programmed to IED when stepped on. I believe the other communicator is actively masking his bio signature, sir."

"Can we contact him on this communicator?"

"We can't target the communicator directly. We can send out a wide area broadcast, but that will depend on his willingness to respond."

"I see. Mr. Allsbane, the time has come for answers. I want to know who this man is and how he has such intimate knowledge of my ship."

"I'm sorry, Captain. I don't have any answers. I'm as perplexed as you."

"Not good enough, Mr. Allsbane! Not nearly good enough! This man has wreaked havoc upon my ship. He has escaped from sickbay, severely injuring my chief medical officer in the process, evaded my security and hacked his way into one of the most secure areas of this vessel. Not to mention that he has demonstrated a mastery of this ship and its systems that rivals the best of Starfleet. Now, I want answers, Mr. Allsbane. Either this man has innate knowledge of this ship and its systems or he acquired it elsewhere. It must be one or the other, so which is it?"

Grim's face reddened and he lowered his head, searching for the right answer.

"I don't know," he said plainly.

"Oh, so what, then? Perhaps Starfleet security is so lax that any layman…"

"Excuse me, Captain," Deana said, somewhat apologetically. "I believe I may have an answer."

"Counselor?"

"I believe Coren may have been under the influence of a foreign entity, sir."

"What makes you say so?"

"For the last three or four hours I have noticed a growing presence in sickbay, but I never reported it."

"Why not, Counselor?"

"It's difficult to explain, Captain, but I'll try. Human minds are very unguarded, as are most species that are not telepathically adept. Your minds aren't used to guarding against outside intrusion, so they don't. From time to time this can create ghosts, of a sort, as the energies from stray thought and emotion drift and mingle together. I usually just dismiss them."

"I see. And what does this have to do with Mr. Olward?"

"For three or four hours I have noticed a large number of these ghosts in the area of sickbay. It's unusual for them to cluster so tightly around one area, but I attributed it to rising tensions from the upcoming mission and dismissed them anyway. I fear I was in error, Captain. I think something was attempting to influence him. I believe Grim really does have no idea what is going on. I'm sorry. I should have brought this to you sooner."

"Counselor, your intuitions have saved this ship many times over, so I think you are entitled to one mistake. However, in the future, I expect you to come to me with all concerns no matter how trivial you believe them to be. Understand?"

"Understood, Captain."

"And as for you, Mr. Allsbane, I may have misjudged you again. You have my apologies."

Grim said nothing, but nodded his acceptance.

"Mr. Data, have you sensed anything?"

"No, sir. I have not. I have sensed no unusual energy readings from the nebula. None more than what we have observed, at any rate. However, I was not looking for coherent energy patterns indicatent of non-corporeal life. Further scans with this focus in mind may yield more refined results."

"Make it so, Mr. Data. Don't wait around here. Begin immediately."

"Yes, sir," Data said. He left immediately to begin his scans.

"Mr. Worf, Can you pinpoint Mr. Olward's position in the holodeck?"

"No, sir," Worf replied. "Even if he wasn't masking his bio signature his body is still just a holographic projection. He would be indistinguishable from everything else in the holodeck."

"I see. Counselor Troi, can you still sense these _ghosts_?"

"Yes, Captain. They are growing stronger. I can sense them clearly in holodeck 3."

"If I could get you in the holodeck, on the ground, do you think you could follow your senses to track Mr. Olward?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Excellent. This is the plan; Counselor, I am going to insert you, Mr. Worf and a full security detachment into the holodeck. You will lead and they will follow your senses to track Mr. Allsbane. Mr. Barclay, you are to join them as well."

"M-m-me, sir," Barclay stuttered. "O-o-on the h-h-holodeck? With D-d-deana?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"N-n-no! No. No, sir."

"Good. I want you to take pack an engineering kit and accompany the security team. When you find the emitter you are to assess its condition and affect any repairs necessary on your way out of the holodeck. Pack your kit accordingly."

"Y-y-yes, sir."

"Mr. Laforge, you are our insurance policy. I want you and Mr. Obrien to begin work on a backup emitter immediately. Time is of the essence. If I understand what the Doctor has already said, these people have been logged in for nearly 36 hours now. Signs of dehydration may have already begun to manifest. If we can't retrieve the original emitter by the time you have finished your backup then we will use your backup instead."

"Understood," Laforge replied. "We'll get to work right away, Captain."

"Excellent. If there's nothing else…"

"Excuse me, Captain," Rose interjected, raising her hand.

"Yes?"

"If you're going into the simulation we should come."

"Absolutely not. Out of the question."

"No, Captain, she's right," Grim added. "You will need us to help you navigate. And the extra muscle won't hurt, either."

"Mr. Allsbane, Miss Rose, we have been on away missions in arboreal environments before. I assure you that we can handle ourselves."

"No, you don't understand," Rose said. "Caldera is not a regular land. And the forest you're about to enter is not a regular forest."

"How so?"

"This won't be like a regular walk through the forest, Captain. Regular forests are homogenous. You have the same trees, the same insects and the same animals spread evenly through the whole forest.

"But Caldera is different. It's a game. It's designed to give the players a challenge. There are some parts that are very high difficulty and some that are very low difficulty. Without a guide your people could walk from a low level area into a high level area without even realizing it. Without knowing what to expect you could easily be ambushed by forces you aren't prepared to face. And with your safety protocols engaged, that could be disastrous."

"I see. And what's to prevent you from coming to harm?"

"Caldera is _our world_, Captain. We have our own protections. We're actually in more danger here than we are in there."

"And what dangers could we face? Can you give us an idea?"

"It's difficult to say," Grim answered. "Trolls, goblins, dragons, giants or even other players. It all depends where Coren ran off to."

The captain leaned back in his chair and sighed, deep in thought.

"Very well," the Captain agreed at last. "You and your people will assist. But only if you understand that Lieutenant Worf is in charge. He has seniority and you will follow his command. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Captain," Rose said. "And thank you."

"Understood," Grim agreed. "Very well understood."

"Good. Then everyone go and make your preparations. You disembark in ten minutes."


End file.
